The Emiya Grail War
by twoDrunkScientists
Summary: In the many multiverses of Fate/Stay Night there is one constant; the Grail is a dick. Due to a "glitch" in the system the Fifth Holy Grail war will be fought by Emiya Shirou, all seven of them.
1. Archer 0 - Prologue

Prologue

A man who looked like my younger self stood atop the school's water tower. But instead of a blue shirt he wore a grey pinstriped suit and a slasher's smile across his heavily scarred face.

"Now why'd you have to go an do a thing like that?" he said. He sounded amused, with a faint chuckle in the accent escaping between his curled lips.

Rin stood her ground atop the roof of Homurahara Academy. The purple glow of a seven-stroke mark faded from the tile by her feet. The boundary field around the school shuddered along with it. It was the final piece of the ritual, hours of hard work paid off, and now the servant responsible for it delivered himself to us as well.

The man leapt from his perch and flipped through the air. He landed in front of Rin, his arms open and his shoulders shrugged. "You got talent kid, I'll give you that." He winked at her. "Still, it's not good for a girl such as yourself to be out all alone."

Rin's eyes shot open in shock, but then relaxed. Her arms tensed up with a nervous anger, and her gaze drifted towards me. A brief gust of wind blew between us. Then she was off.

Her feet clacked against the tile of the rooftop. A faint red light materialized down her legs. She accelerated towards the fence and cleared right over it with a single bound. "Archer," she said, "take care of the landing."

I wrapped my arms around her and braced for impact. We slammed into the ground, a cloud of dust erupted from beneath us, and then we were off once again. Rin ran across the courtyard, her breathing labored for air, before stopping at the edge of the school grounds.

"Not the first time a girl's run off at the sight of me." The Servant hit the ground in front of her. He swaggered towards us at a slow pace, cracking his knuckles and smiling the whole way. "But given that I'm trying to kill you, I think I'll give you a pass on this one."

Rin stood up straight and firm, confident despite the exhaustion running through her veins. We were now in the open, with plenty of room to maneuver and multiple avenues of escape. I expected no less from her.

"Archer!" she commanded.

I materialized into my physical body with Kanshou and Bakuya in hand. I stood still, the twin swords of my armory poised and waiting attack. But none came. A deathly silence fell between us. My opponent doesn't draw his weapon. Instead he crossed his arms and smiled.

"I know what you're thinking." He took a few steps forward, but made no hostile movements. His shoulders drooped and his face relaxed, as if feigning friendliness. "When's the handsome fella in front of me gonna make his move?"

"Who are you?" I asked. His movements were slow, relaxed, as if meeting an old friend instead. Even the smile softened to that of a gentleman. But it was trick, and I watched him closely lest I be lured into a false sense of security. That was my strategy after all.

"Name's not important," he said, "but if you want, you can call me Lancer."

"Servant Lancer," Rin whispered under her breath behind me.

"That's right." Lancer nodded. "And the ugly mug staring back at me must be Archer."

I pointed Bakuya at him, dead center on his neck.

He stopped walking and raised his arms in mock surrender. "What's got you so worried?" The distance was five meters, too close for comfort. Given his class he would have some way of closing the distance. "Look, I got nothing up my..." He paused.

Silence.

Lancer's smile grew, now encompassing his entire face. And he opened his mouth at last. "Sleeves."

My arm shot upwards at an odd angle. It caught something, stopping and sending the force from Bakuya's edge all the way to my spine. The shock ruptured its way throughout my body. But I stood my ground and turned to face the source of the disturbance.

The glint of reflecting moonlight hung in the air on a thin translucent string of piano wire. It weaved its way around my sword and spun itself back to Lancer's arms. He twisted a hand and shattered Kanshou into two clean pieces. Lancer's arm shot forth once more. Another piece of moonlight snapped towards me.

I cocked my arm back and threw up my other hand to block the attack. The force of the shock pushed me back. My heels dug into the sand as cracks ruptured on Bakuya's body. Then it snapped in half.

I stood there. An Archer class disarmed by a Lancer at range. How preposterous. He pulled the coils of wire back into his sleeves and took a deep breath. And then closed the distance.

He stood half a meter away when he pulled back. His eyes shot open and he forced himself to slow his own onslaught. Perhaps it was the smile on my face.

Or it could have been the twin swords that rematerialized in my hands. I swung them down across his chest. The blade bit into the fabric, tugging, then ripping at the seams. A tear sounded out across the courtyard.

Lancer slid backwards on his heels, stopping just out of reach. His touched his chest, shaking his head. "This is Armani!" he said. He pulled of the coat and tossed in between us. "You're going to pay for that."

He attacked once more, this time at double the pace. I swung at his face, intentionally leaving my center open to attack. But he didn't take the bait. He brought his first down by my left arm. The wire drew blood as it bit into my wrist. I slashed at him with my other arms, but Lancer pulled away. My shoulder shot out of its socket like a bullet.

I grit my teeth and slashed at the wire. It met some resistance, stopping in midair, before cleaving it in half. Lancer took advantage of the moment to come back in force, kicking and punching.

I blocked blow after blow with my good arm until Kanshou shattered into ether. Despite the strength of my blade Lancer met them with full force without nary a scratch. Reinforcement magic was the only logical conclusion. I disengaged, pushing back on my heels and growing the distance between us. The grew as wide as twenty five meters. "You don't fight like a Lancer," I said, ignoring the nervous sweat trickling down my forehead. He still hadn't drawn his weapon.

"Pot, meet kettle," he laughed. "I mean come on. A Lancer without a lance and an Archer without a bow? What have we gotten ourselves into?"

I took advantage of the brief respite to repair my injured shoulder. A loud snap echoed across the courtyard as the arm snapped back into its socket. Rin's rich flow of magic took care of the rest.

"Archer," Rin said. Her voice was soft, worried.

"Trace on." Prana surged into my hands and another copy of Kanshou materialized.

Lancer nodded. "Looks like the undercard's over. Let's see whatcha got."

I went on the offensive. The distance closed in the blink of an eye. But Lancer was not caught off guard, the fastest class in the war, he was already in a defensive stance. I slashed across the chest, catching his hardened fists and stabbed at the face.

But Lancer counterattacked. He dodged the stab and duck underneath my swings to get past the defenses. But they were a trap. Left there intentionally to draw the attackers in, where my honed reflexes were poised to defend. Lancer was too fast to fight otherwise.

He pulled back, ceasing the attack, and paused for a second. "Can't be me in a fair fight so you resort to dirty tricks," he said. "I like your style."

I shrugged. Kanshou and Bakuya were ready for another attack, but none came. We eyed one another, cautious, waiting for the other to make the first move. We were much alike. The eerie sense of familiarity sent a chill through my core. His golden brown eyes were a reflection of my own. Only instead of the resigned despair there existed a faint ray of hope, and a strange purpose in life.

"Archer," Rin said from the edge of the courtyard. I had been so engrossed in our fight I had forgotten her existence. "Let's retreat for now."

That was unexpected. Rin was prideful, arrogant at times, and hot headed when she wanted to be. But she was not stupid, and knew when it was best to fight another day. In any other situation it was the right call. Lancer was an unknown, and the fight was a draw, no use in risking it so early in the war. And yet I found myself disagreeing with her decision. Something gnawed at me.

"Shit." Lancer took this attention off me and dashed towards the school. The red headed blur disappeared behind the fence and into the buildings.

"Oh no," Rin said. "Archer, follow him!"

I obeyed. Only one thing could spook her in a time like this. A witness. I shook my head. Was was too nice of a person. She would want his memory erased, something unlikely to be shared by Lancer. I took off after him without a second thought.

For some reason I was happy.

Lancer was fast. I chased him through the school's double doors, past the classrooms, and round the corners with all my speed. And yet it wouldn't be enough.

The elation faded away to fear and the desire to save someone arose within. Despire the torment some things have never changed. Just once, I wanted to save one person. Kill one to save a ten, kill a ten to save a hundred. Just once I wanted to actually save someone. Please.

But around the corner laid a body. Face down and seeped in blood that pooled around the bottom of the stairs. Lancer was long gone with only his handiwork that remained. I was too late.

Rin appeared soon after. She knelt down beside the corpse with her face in despair. A faint tear trickled down the corner of her eyes, even if she didn't realize it herself. "Why'd it have to be you?" she said.

Emiya Shirou was dying on the cold tile beneath an empty stairwell. His breathing was shallow, and the color fled from his face. It was a humiliating end for a hero of justice. But I knew it wouldn't end here unless I did something about it. Rin pressed a red jewel onto his heart, frantically trying to save him. The wound was healing, I knew.

Had she been a few minutes late he would've been dead. So if this was what I wanted the chance was now. The chance to end the cycle of torment. Just kill him.  
I raised Bakuya up high, ready to end his pitiful existence. Rin pressed harder against his chest. She poured all her magical energy into the dying boy, tears now replaced by sweat and stoic determination. My blade moved to swing down on the body, but stopped. Something prevented me from it. I lowered my sword and stood watch, the mixed feeling of hate and disappointment coursing through me.

Rin continued unawares of what just transpired. In her eyes were the beautiful glow of a determined woman. A hero. Someone desperately trying to save someone. I couldn't take that away from her.

But any illusions that Rin had ignored the rest of the world in her single minded focus were shattered when our eyes met. "Archer, find Lancer!"

I nodded, and then left Rin alone. The Holy Grail war was a dangerous time, there will be other opportunities. The night sky opened above as I exited the school. No traces of Lancer existed, so I leapt back onto the roof of the school to get a better vantage point.

I scanned the barren city from my perch. A cat ran amongst the illuminated smattering of street lights. And in the distance, two kilometers out, was a footprint on the ledge of Seiyu supermarket. It was faint, a mild disturbance in the gravel, but it was my only lead.

I lept from ledge of ledge, rooftop to rooftop, keeping sight of it the whole way. Time was of the essence, and on top of his speed, Lancer had a head start. I quickened my pace, I need to find him, partly because my Master ordered me to, and partly to figure out why is was so unnerving.

A can of Kirin crushed beneath my feet as I landed on the rooftop of the supermarket. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts overturned as I crept towards the footprint. It was cold lead. No other disturbances existed in the area. I stood on the edge of the building, Fuyuki's iconic red bridge hung in the distance. Where would I go from here?

Circle around, back track, and lead the pursuer down a dead end track. Then return to my Master. I frowned, looked around, and saw nothing.

It was a dead end, and a waste of time.

Rin was going to be upset. I had no leads and no way of tracking down Lancer. The feeling of heaviness fell on me, but any more searching would be futile. WIth no other choice I headed back to Rin.

###

I passed through the walls of Rin's home in my spirit form. She sat in the living room, sipping a cup of cold tea, and sensed my presence immediately.

"Welcome back. How did it go?" she said.

I avoided her eyes, opting instead to stare at the orange carpet. "I'm sorry. It must have been one cautious Master. At the least, he's not on this side of town.

"I see." Rin frowned as she thought, her face showed a mix of worry and acceptance. She came to same conclusion I did. Lancer's Master was not one to fight personally, and our options right now were limited.

Still, I couldn't stand to see the look she wore. "You seem down, Master," I tried to cheer her up. "If you so order, I am ready to go battle Lancer again right now."

"No." She shook her head. "It would be pointless. Not all of the Servants have been summoned yet. Besides, we don't want to blunder into a trap."

I nodded. Rin has a good head on her shoulders. She may be prideful, but she knows when she's beat, even if it's only a temporary setback. As she returned to her thoughts I noticed something was missing. The pendant that she around her neck was gone. "Wait a minute. What happened to that jewelry of yours?"

I already knew the answer.

"You mean my pendant?" she said. "Oh, I forgot it. It's out of power, so there's no use for it, right?"

"That's true, but..."  
"Yes, it's a memento of my father's, but it's not like it's my only memory of him."

I reached into my pocket. An exact copy of that pendant materialized from nowhere. The only difference was that it was mine. From a distant memory and a different time. On the eve of the Fifth Holy Grail war I awoke alone in the hallways the school. She saved me. The evidence was in my hands.

"Oh," she said, taking it from me, "you went and picked it up for me."

In a sense.

I looked away, ignoring her reactions. "Don't forget it again. It only looks right on you." It felt good to finally return it.

"Hey, wait a sec." Rin paused in confusion, lost in thought, as if the pieces of an unseen puzzle were arranging themselves into place. Her fists gripped the sofa as her face trembled. She stood up and launched out of the room and onto the streets.

I followed her. We ran down the cracked concrete, in the middle of the road through the dead of night. Rin ran without missing a beat, her feet smashing against the the faded white dividers. We ran through the shopping district, past different neighborhoods, and into the old district of town. I knew where she was going.

We arrived in short order. Rin leaned over for a second to catch her breath. We were in front of my home.

"Archer," she said between breaths, "is this one of those hypotheticals you always talk about?"

I didn't answer. It wasn't. My knowledge of my time wasn't helping. This was beyond a hypothetical. This was real. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

The wind howled. The retreating figure of Lancer headed towards the bridge, his coat tails flapping in the wind.

"Trace On." I held Kanshou and Bakuya in my hands and edged towards the wall. Now or never, I prepared to jump.

A black and white blur flashed through my peripheral vision. It scaled over the wall in a single move and landed at the entrance of the compound.

It was a man; white hair, with dark skin. Dressed in a black silk dress shirt, wearing a coyote brown plate carrier, and with an orange flare gun holstered at his hip.

But that wasn't what caught my attention. In his hands were Kanshou and Bakuya. A reflection of myself stared back at me. And he wore the most obnoxious grin on his face, as if to say: "You know who I am."

My heart sank. Because I knew. I knew in the very fabric of my soul.

I knew he was right.


	2. Shirou I

Shirou I

The sound of clashing steel grew louder and louder. The sheer force of violence so powerful the vibrations in the air sent chills across my skin. It was a fight. And someone needed help, whoever it was.

I ran out of the empty dojo and into the open campus. I had volunteered to stay after hours as a favor to Shinji, and was now grateful for it. My movements towards the danger was unconscious, without any intention to resist it.

The noise grew louder and the ground shook harder and harder as I neared the fence. Two men stood face to face, one a knight in black and red, and the other in a gray suit. Something inside me recognized them, from where I didn't know. I edged closer and closer to the wires, my fingers grasping on links in the chains.

The two men clashed at supersonic speeds, moving at the blur of an eye. But something told me this wasn't a fight. And for once, I didn't want it to stop. I watched; in awe.

They moved with ferocity and grace, exchanging blow for blow. Each movement controlled and fluid, like it was choreographed. A nagging sense of deja vu washed over me. I don't know where, I don't know why, but I felt a connection. Each movement felt natural, so easy, as if it were the only actions possible.

The two paused, eying each other, waiting for the other to make a move. My grip tightened against the fence, leaving markings onto my skin. What's going to happen next?

But the man in grey faced me with his piercing gold eyes. My heart stopped. Sweat trickled down my face. Had he heard the fense move? Whatever the case, it didn't matter. I couldn't fight him. He would kill me in a second.

I sprinted back into the school and slammed open the doors. I burst into the dark hallways, navigating by the small rays of moonlight shining through the windows. The man's presence followed me, and an intense sense of foreboding lingered in the air. I didn't need to look back to know he would be on top of me. Sweat poured like a broken faucet, it blinded my vision as the thumping of my heart deafened me to the world.

I rounded a corner, two routes. Up the stairs or outside.

"Doesn't matter which direction you choose, Kid." The voice was in my head.

I turned around. The man in the grey suit cracked his knuckles. His expression was neutral, bored even.

"Nothing personal, Kid," he said, "but the boss said 'No witnesses.'"

Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. It can't end like this. Not yet. Everything slowed around me as my reflexes took over. I swung at his face.

But despite time slowing around me, his movements were rapid, a barely registered blur in my mind. He grabbed my wrist with one hand, and in one smooth motion, he twisted. The two bones in my arm snapped.

"GaH!" I gasped, trying to pull back. But the man didn't let go.

"You got spunk, Kid," he said, "shame I gotta put you down."

Not like this. I couldn't die like this. I cocked my other arm and tried again, swinging in desperation.

He pulled me in and drew a knife.

I fell towards it. Everything moved at glacial speed. My attacked missed completely. And my eyes were fixated on the blade in his hands. It inched towards my chest, taking its time. A Tanto, a small dagger perfect for stabbing, manufactured in 1941. I read its previous owner, and wondered why I knew such a thing as the tip of the blade pierced my heart.

The taste of iron rushed out of my mouth. I touched the trickle of it to see the crimson red blood. Is this it?

He let me fall to my knees. The entire ordeal was painless. "Sleep tight, Kid."

No. I refused.

I reached upwards, trying to grasp at the night sky. Blood poured out of my chest and my vision blurred. It couldn't end now, not here. But as my energy faltered, my will remained unfettered. I used the last of my strength to stand up.

But it wasn't enough. Without anything to hold me up, I fell face first onto the ground. My blood was warm. And I felt no pain.

I felt nothing.

###

A fire burnt around me..

Yes. It was the day I died. Father stood over me, his face in joyful tears. I could never forget it. How I envied it. How I wanted to feel the same way he did.

I opened my eyes, expecting to see him again, but saw the ceiling instead. The school was dark and empty, and swimming in a pool of my own blood. I pushed myself up, sending a red stained jewel rolling down my chest. Whoever saved me had left this behind.

It shined against the moonlight, it's pinkish glint gave off a faint trace of prana. As I held it up a shot of pain struck me in the chest. I stumbled, and leaned against the stairs for support, and to my surprised discovered my arm was no longer broken. Questions ran through my mind. Who did this? Who saved me?

But with the sense of creeping nausea falling on me, I decided to sort out these feelings later. I ran home. Despite the pain the pace was quick. The wounds healed at an astonishing rate, as if something had awoken. Still, my muscles were weak from blood loss.

Home was a twenty minute run, and I arrived as fast as possible despite the wounds. The darkness of the living room gave off an eerie feeling. I sat down to catch my breath, assured in the safety of my home.

Or not.

The oak floors creaked behind me, followed by the sound of wood sliding on wood. I turned my head. It was him.

"Impressive, Kid." He smiled, appearing genuinely surprised. "You gotta teach me that little trick of yours sometime."

I jumped up, grabbing the nearing thing to defend myself with. A poster case. It would have to do. "Trace on," I muttered, reinforcing it as best I could.

"This is the thanks I get?" he sighed. "Quick stab in the heart, nice and painless."

I didn't move. It was just like at school. Running was not an option.

"That's what I get for being such a nice guy," he said. "Guess I'm gonna have to cave your head in til you stop moving instead."

Broken glass shredded my back as I slammed against the window. My house grew smaller and smaller in the distance as the hurried wind blew all around me. It was then my mind registered that I had been punched through the window.

I slammed through the roof of the shed and scattered my waylaid tools as I crashed into the concrete. The feelings in my limbs disappeared. I willed every being of my soul to move, but felt nothing.

"End of the line, Kid." he slid open the door to the shed. "I'll make sure your family's all taken care of."

"No." I stared at the stars through the hole in the ceiling. Dying twice in one day, how humiliating. I won't allow it, I won't die so meaninglessly. So many things left to do. I still needed to become a Hero of Justice. "I won't be killed," I screamed, "by someone like you!"

A rush of wind lifted the remaining tools off the ground and smashed them against the wall. It wailed a gristly wail and tore out the door. Then came the sound of footsteps behind me.

"Oh that's just not fair." The man's shoulder's slumped.

I leaned my head back to look behind me.

A man, much like the one in red, stood there. But he was different. Wearing a black longsleeve shirt and some kind of brown vest. In a flash he flew over me, slashing at his opponent with a pair of black and white swords.

The man in grey retreated through the hole in the roof without saying a word. It was quick and brutal, with a splash of blood staining the walls.

And then the man in the black shirt turned around, looking back at me with his golden brown eyes. The moonlight from above silhouetted him perfectly. I was speechless, not because I was in pain, but because I can make out the most obnoxious grin on his face.

"I ask of you," he laughed, as if this were some kind of joke to him, "are you my...Master?"

"Master?" I sat up. I don't know how, but I can tell that this man is the same as the one I met before.

"I am Servant Saber," he said, "what are your orders, Master?" He stood in the center of the shed, the grin on his face never wavering. He was enjoying it, somehow, I could tell.

A sharp pain shot through my hand, and I instinctively grabbed it. A set of markings burned into the skin. "What the?"

Saber nodded. "Our contract is complete."

I pulled myself up, confused. A rush of questions ran through my mind. I wanted to ask all of them, but somehow I didn't want to know the answer. "Who are you?" I asked.

Saber frowned, biting his lip, as if he didn't know what to say. A few seconds passed before he opened his mouth to speak. "I am-" he stopped before he could finish. Saber's head jerked back, and he ran out of the shed.

My heart skipped a beat, as if it were waiting on the answer. The sound of fighting echoed from outside. The clash of steel. Another battle. It called to me.

Lacking other options, I followed after him.


	3. Saber I

Saber I

The nostalgic scent of dust and grease hung in the air, sending me back to the days of my youth. I smiled. As the wind died down and the dust settled, my younger self came into view. He laid sprawled on the ground, having just summoned me. A creeping smile overwhelmed me. Alaya had one hell of a sense of humor.

I rolled my shoulders and rediscovered the strength and vigor lost from age. It felt good. Like I could take on the world and win again. It had been too long.

"Oh, that's just not fair," said the other man standing across from me. He too looked like my younger self, before going grey, dark, and handsome. This wasn't the Lancer I knew, and something told me this was only the first of a long list of interesting developments that I would find myself in.

I seized the element of surprise and rushed him, tracing Kanshou and Bakuya. He tried to dodge the attack, and barely escaped with a short swipe to the shoulder. A blotch of blood slicked off the blade and splashed the walls.

"Shit," he muttered. He kicked at my arm, forcing me to pull back, and retreated through the newly installed moon roof in the heat of the moment.

Even before the dust of skirmish had settled I turned around to face myself. He had managed to prop himself up and the contract between us had sealed. Yet I wasn't getting any prana from him. Definitely not good.

But any thought of fixing that problem in the moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing in the distance. They were coming, Rin and Archer. A rematch between myself and my old foe was in order. I burst from the shed leaving behind my bewildered younger self and cleared over the walls of the compound.

Archer noticed first, stopping in his heels. The look on his face was priceless. His jaw hung slack for a second, before clenching his teeth and tightening his grip around his weapons. Joy rushed through me, and the gush of wind sent shivers up my spine as I descended towards the ground. I bent my knees and hit the ground with a soft touch.

I faced Archer, and smiled. I showed him the biggest, most shit-eating grin I could muster, as if to mock him. Because he knew who I was, the expression was clearer than straight vodka.

He charged me, either in rage or to wipe the grin off my face. And I countered, matching blow for blow. If he swung left, I swung right. He went low, I went low. Every opening we left each other was avoided, we knew the futility of attacking them. Traps, all of them. It was the same as before.

Perfectly symmetrical violence. It was beautiful. A rematch long forgotten. To feel the rush and thrill of combat with Archer once more. Every move was an exhilarating dance, one I wished could last forever. Unfortunately I couldn't stay long. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Like Archer, I would not let myself make the same mistakes I once did. However, I had no intention of killing my younger self. Instead, to mentor him, and lead him onto a different path, where he would not end up dying alone.

Archer destroyed Bakuya in the carnage, and pressed onto the attack. I pulled back, struggling against the magnetic pull of my remaining sword. Without its companion it sought out the nearest copy of its partner, the one in Archer's hands. Another attack cut across me in the struggle, and I dodged that as I traced another copy of Bakuya. It came, but too slowly, prana trickled into my system as my younger self was still an amateur in magecraft.

Fear worked its way into my mind. Archer was actually pushing me back. He didn't relent, and drove forth with an unending passion that must have been familiar to him. A slash ran down my chest and bounced off my plate carrier. He was getting close. I needed to throw him off balance somehow.

Rin stood in the distance, unsure of what to do, very unlike her. The fight had lasted only half a minute, but we were going too fast for anyone to keep up. Forgive me, I thought, and traced a number of swords in the air above us. They hung in the balance, precarious, and dangerous.

I fired them at her.

Archer's eyes flashed with rage, he fell back, summoned forth his armory of swords and responded with counter fire. They clashed in mid-air, exploding into fragments. Dust kicked up around the compound, blinding my view.

This was it. I rushed forward, through his defenses, swords in hand, ready not to kill him, but rather injure him enough to take him out of the running. Archer hastily brought up his swords to parry, holding me back by the briefest of margins.

Time slowed, the deciding moment was nigh. I smiled, staring back at him. He was pissed, a heartbeat away from head-butting me in the face. I took a breath.

"Still looking for the hill of swords, Emiya?" I whispered.

The look of rage evaporated, replaced with one of shock. His grip weakened, and his resolve faltered. That did it. I pulled my arm back, ready to end this. Bakuya lunged forward, poised to pierce its target.

"STOP!"

The will to move forward disappeared. My younger self had used a command spell. The opportunity so narrow in its appearance disappeared in an instant. I sighed, having no choice, and fell back, keeping my eyes on Archer for the entirety of the movement. He looked rattled, it was good enough for now.

"Archer, get back," Rin said, having regained her composure. She stepped forward, arms crossed and with a gentle sway in her hips, each movement planned and controlled. The situation had been out of hand, and now she was determined to take it back. "Emiya-kun," she said.

I opened my mouth to respond before shutting up. It had been instinct, Pavlovian. I was ready to explain myself like I had just been caught eating out of the cookie jar. Instead, she was referring to my younger self.

Shirou stood in front of the gate, eying Archer and I with suspicion. "Tohsaka," he said.

I looked back at Archer. He never took his eyes off me, the face he gave was one of pure unfiltered anger. Only one other person had given me that look, and that was Gilgamesh.

I smiled back at him.  
This was going to fun.


	4. Rider I

**A/N:** Welcome everyone to the third chapter of The Emiya Grail War, we've gotten a lot of positive feedback from everyone and are glad you all enjoyed it. This story has actually been a long time coming (we've kicked this idea around for years before finally starting). Before we begin I'd like to answer a few questions from the commentators.

patiphat1998: We believe half of the fun is piecing together the backstories of the various Emiyas. Saber, or Saber-Emiya, who we will be referring to them as such to prevent confusion, was actually the first fully fleshed out Emiya. When we came up with this idea we presumed all the other Emiyas would be more like Archer and attempt to kill Shirou and thus needed a more powerful one to balance the others out. Of course the other servants developed their own personalities and objectives, but that's how it started. As to your question, you're just going to have to figure it out :)

ENDDRAGON369: Shirou will not SUMMON Saber(Arthuria), but because of her influence on Shirou regardless of timeline she will make an appearance later. She will not however directly affect the story.

The-Great-Me-sama: As mentioned above, you're just going to have read and find out :)

Please read and review and don't be afraid to share/spread this story.

* * *

Rider I

I awoke to a murky, all-enveloping greenish darkness. Information washed over my mind, filling it to the brim with all the relevant information of the era. I didn't need it. This was the Holy Grail War. My time. Funny. Considering I was the furthest thing from a heroic spirit possible. After all, someone who cast away his loved ones for people he didn't know couldn't be considered a hero. He should be pitied, not admired.

My eyes adjusted to the low light, and I made out the features and contours of the room. A large, catacomb-like stone room with empty holes carved into the walls resolved itself. A feeling of recognition came to me. A memory, long since buried. I knew this place a lifetime ago.

A heavy labored breathing came from behind me. My trench coat fluttered in the stagnant air as I turned.

Purple hair. Fuchsia bow. Pink blouse.

Sakura.

Even a lifetime of torment and a slumber in death was not enough to make me forget. How could I? The girl I sacrificed, who I allowed to be murdered as I stood by, crouched before me.

"I am in hell," I whispered.

She looked up in confusion. Did she hear me? Or did my expression betray my inner thoughts behind the large red shroud I wore around my neck?

A shrill cackle cut through the darkness, and a shriveled old man stepped into view behind Sakura. His dead eyes locked onto mine. Instantly the emotions flooded me; pain, guilt, regret all threatened to break the iron facade I had worn for so long. But I choked them down, buried them with all the practice of a life of self-control. I stared back into the beady eyes of Matou Zouken.

"A monstrous gorgon indeed, so ugly the great Medusa appears a man," he said.

I narrowed my eyes at the comment, but turned away, focusing on Sakura. "In accordance with the summons of the Holy Grail, I come forward," steel the mind, kill the heart, "I ask of you, are you my Master?"

She hesitated, uncertain. And looked at her grandfather as if afraid of what to do.

He nodded.

"Y-yes. I am your Master," she said. The frail girl picked herself off the ground, teetering on tired legs, and looked me straight in the eyes.

She wore the same look on her face, that look of determination in the face of death, the same face my Sakura wore when I saw her for the last time. "What... what is your name?"

"The name of a Servant betrays their secrets, Master. In this war knowledge is power and you would do well to guard it," I said. "You may call me Rider."

A shrill laugh came from that walking corpse.

"A smart one! Good, good, we'll need a smart and obedient dog if we are to do well in this war."

For a brief moment a scowl found its way past my facade.

"Ohh! It seems the Servant does not like me very much, I think."

In another time, in another place I killed you. I watched you fade into ashes and dust while your family's legacy burned down around you. The only reason I do not do the same now is because I know everything, about the Matou magic, about the crest worm implanted inside Sakura.

"Good work Sakura, I believe you have earned yourself a rest," he said.

"R-really, grandfather?" She said.

He nodded in a false display of pride.

"Yes. Take Rider and show him the rest of the mansion. We will want him well acquainted with the layout in the event any of the other Masters attempt to attack us during the War"

Sakura looked at me uncertainly. I was unsure if this was just because she was unused to receiving praise from Zouken or if she still did not know what to make of me.

I gave one last lingering glare at Zouken. In time, I would find a way to kill him again, but that moment was not now. Steel the mind, kill the heart.

"Lead the way, Master."

###

I stepped through the Matou mansion with an uneasy sense of familiarity. Sakura didn't need to show me the layout as I had already stalked these hallways and secret passages in my former life. I had made sure that nothing survived. A fair send off for betraying the girl who put all her trust in me. A monument to her suffering, torn down with my own two hands. A funeral pyre for a girl the world did not know, but who threatened many with her existence.

"The way you dress," Sakura said, "you don't seem like someone from the past."

I stopped mid-stride. "Knowledge is power, Master."

"I-I know, but-"

"I suppose a trenchcoat is not a common attire for a heroic spirit. Though, I could have been summoned from the early 1900's for all you know."

"True, but we were trying to summon Medusa," she said. Then a tiny smile crept onto her face, so silent and hidden even she would not have noticed it. "You're definitely not the right gender."

I gave her a hollow laugh. "Medusa could have been a man, playing the role of a woman. They -were- the Greeks."

But the truth was something else. She disappeared from this world soon after Rin had taken her Master's life. She had almost killed me in her rage, but instead gave me the curse of life. Her final words still ring in that venomous voice of hers. _I curse you to a life of betrayal._

I shook off the image and turned to face Sakura. She smiled back at me. To her I was a tall, imposing man, with pale skin and paler hair, in a red shroud and black trenchcoat, a heroic figure to anyone else. Yet, she did not see the dead eyes that stared back.

It must have been like talking to a ghost.

We made our way back to the basement entrance. As I began to feel a sense of reconnection between us, Sakura shut the door. And turned her back to me.

"I'm sorry, Rider," she said.

Oh no. How did I forget?

"Sakura! Where the hell are you? The old fart needs you for the spellbook forging," echoed a male voice. I knew that voice.

"Grandfather doesn't think that I have the drive to survive a Grail War. He's... he's going to have my brother be your Master."

No.

"Goddamnit, Sakura," the purple haired boy stomped towards us, "there you are!"

No. No. No. No. No. No.

My legs moved on their own. Black boots crushing mauve carpeting. Coat fluttering. Shroud waving behind me.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

Blood rushed to my head. I could not hear anything. Sakura yelled something out behind me, I think?

In half a second I was upon him, that vile snake. Shinji Matou, this time I would enjoy killing you.

His eyes bulged as he realized what was happening, staring at me like a gazelle realizing that a lion had just strolled straight up to it. Blades flashed through my mind. An arsenal of killing instruments at my fingertips. But I would need none of them.

"Rider! I command you to stop!" Sakura screamed.

My hands shot out... and stopped. I froze up.

A command seal. She had actually used a command seal to stop me from killing Shinji? Even after everything he had done to her?

"Grandfather's already made his decision."

NO. NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

I let out a low, guttural roar.

My body felt heavy. Did not matter. My limbs themselves fought against me. Did not matter. My head pulsed and thrummed with pain. Did not matter.

All that mattered was killing Shinji.

All that mattered was wrapping my hands around his scrawny neck.

All that mattered was a twist and a satisfying snap as his shivering form fell limp to the ground.

If I could only reach... just a little more!

"RIDER, STOP! DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

My body burned again. Another command seal?

Why? Why can you not understand what I am trying to do?

My head felt heavy.

It was only just-

I only-

The world spun around me in a torrent of dark.

"No..."

I collapsed.

###

I awoke to the Book of False Attendant waving in my face. Its leather cover soon replaced by the sneering visage of someone who I had once, a long time ago, called friend.

"Now, what is the first thing I should make you do, Rider?"

I am in hell.


	5. Archer I

Archer I

We stood out on the porch outside of the main house, where Kiritsugu died. Rin and Shirou sat inside the living room, discussing the Holy Grail War and its specifics. I had felt my presence unnecessary, and instead sought the comfort of the great outdoors to clear my mind. This was broken when Saber followed afterwards. Annoyance reared its head, but I suppressed it. This was in my favor, so I too sought to have my questions answered.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

Saber leaned against the support beam and stared at the stars in the night sky. A wry smile crept onto his arrogant face. "Philosophers have attempted to answer that question for centuries.

I crossed my arms, drilling holes into the side of his head. "Don't get coy with me."

"You already know the answer."

He was right. I did. He was Emiya Shirou.

But that asked more questions than it answered. And even then, I needed to hear it from him. In so many ways I wasn't looking for confirmation, but a denial. I was afraid of the answer.

"Tell me, Archer, what do you intend to do with my answer?"

I didn't know. What would I do? What would it mean for me? Questions raced through my mind, but the answers were already clear.

Saber sighed, he pulled out a pack of Viceroy cigarettes from a magaine pouch on his plate carrier, and fished for a lighter. His gaze met mine, and as if to answer my question, he said: "Since Beirut," as he lit up. Being vague, and trying a little too hard to be cool I see. He took a few puffs, the bright orange tip glowing through the night, before speaking again. "Killing Shirou isn't going to work. I'm sorry."

A field of blades flashed before my eyes. The sound of crying victims, screaming souls, all echoed in my skull. I tried to shake the thoughts, but they flooded over me. No matter what I did, nothing helped. Kill one to save ten, kill ten to save a hundred. But in truth, no one was saved. All because of a damn dream.

"Who are you?" I pressed again. I needed to know. My life was a lie, an illusion. A stolen ideal that was never mine. A faker, a thief; distorted. I needed a lie, the truth terrified me.

Saber took a long drag of his cigarette, holding the breath before a second before exhaling. Tiny smoke rings floated overhead. He was toying with me, trying to be dramatic. This has gone on long enough. Answer me!  
He frowned, and crushed the butt against the heel of his boot. "Emiya Shirou."

My heart sank. It was the answer I'd been waiting for, and the worst possible one. In the myriad plane of universes, each had their own Emiya Shirou. All carrying on with their stolen ideals to the bitter end. And the Holy Grail had delivered one of them here. It was the only thing that made sense. Was it possible the other servants were the same? Likely.

That's why I sensed something was wrong with Lancer. He was me. Another version, another existence, the details are different, but it was all the same.

My legs gave out, I leaned against the beam for support. In my mind I saw only numbers. The choices were the same as always, sacrifice the few for the many. Kill the deserving to save the wicked. Those who cried for salvation put to death to save those who knew no misery. I never saw their faces, never knew their names. Even then, I dragged on, saving someone, anyone was the only thing that brought me joy.

It was unending. For a superhero to exist there must be conflict. I "saved" those I could, and killed those who opposed me. The only people a superhero can save are those he sides with, of course. In the end the few friends I had betrayed me, disgusted with how I tore myself for my ideals.

I found myself alone on a hill of swords.

If killing my younger self would not work, what hope was there for me? How can I end the cycle of torment?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my mind. Saber looked back at me out of the corner of his eyes, but remained silent. I heard the screams, echoing in the night. I wanted to clutch at my ears, to block them out, but I know it would be no use.

They're in my head.

And all I can see is the one person I never bothered to save. Deep in the recesses of my mind was the one person I gladly abandoned all those years ago. Emiya Shirou.


	6. Lancer I

Lancer I

My memories were still foggy, but I did know one thing: kill Kirei Kotomine.

Unfortunately that would have to wait until later. I hopped from rooftop to rooftop fleeing from my unfortunate encounter with the enemy Servant. Saber had caught me off guard was all, he'll pay for it later. For now, escape and live to fight another day. The first step was to lose the tail. Last thing I wanted to do was lure them back to the base. Or was it?

I landed in a back alley with a light step, making sure not to disturb the colony of feral cats that resided in it. The night was young, and people still walked the streets. A perfect place to get lost in the crowd. I stepped under the dim yellow street lights of the shopping district and walked around the bum sleeping on the bench outside of Copenhagen.

Copenhagen.

An image flashed in my mind. It was warm, familiar, even welcoming. Was it part of my memories? Did I know this place?

The lights in the bar were on, and a raven haired woman leaned against the counter in the corner. She sighed, looking bored. I pulled on the door and walked inside.

"Emiyan, I thought you weren't working today," the woman said before stopping. "Sorry, you looked like someone I know."

I smiled, but didn't mean it. Unsure what to make of this "coincidence." They rarely are, and I recognized some sort of connection with her; like I'd seen her somewhere. "Must be a handsome guy," I passed it off as a joke.

She shrugged. "What'll it be?"

I snuck a peek behind me, making sure my tail was clear. I hadn't sensed a presence as I left the Kid's house, but that didn't mean I wasn't being followed. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. "Beer, whatever ya got." I sat down at the bar at an angle, making sure to have one eye on the door.

She pulled a glass out from behind the counter and held it up to the tap. A gentle flow of Yebisu poured into it. She looked so natural, seamless, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What's yer name, toots?" I said, trying to make small talk.

She topped off the glass, wiped the excess with a plastic red foam scraper and slid the drink over. "Neko."

Neko.

I knew her from somewhere.

"What's yer real name?" I asked, fishing for anything.

"I'm not telling," she laughed, somewhat surprised by her response.

"That makes two of us then," I took a sip of beer. letting the nostalgic taste wash over my tongue. I remembered it from somewhere, a nice hoppy flavor with a bitter, yet gentle aftertaste. It was good. I resisted the urge to cheer.

Neko crossed her arms and smiled. "Tell you what, you tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine." Was she hitting on me?

I frowned, and stared down at my drink, nursing the half empty glass. What do I say? "I don't..."

Should I just make something up?

I snuck a glance, her smile had shrunken back to a neutral expression.  
"I don't know," I finally said.

"..." she didn't say anything, just as confused as I was.

"Thanks for the drink." I stood up, dropping a few coins onto the counter, it was more than enough, but I didn't need the money. I turned to walk away before stopping. I remembered a motorcycle. "I need you to fix my Yahama if you can, Kid," I heard from nowhere. Clearly I was insane. I shook my head and turned back towards the bar.

Neko raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I'll have a sandwich too," I gestured towards the window with my neck, "make sure the guy outside gets it."

She looked radiant, flashing me the biggest smile short of what the ugly sonuvabitch that nearly did me in earlier had. I turned away just as she began to speak. "You really are a nice person."

Maybe, I thought. Who knew if I was? "Yeah, don't go tellin' nobody," I said as I pushed through the doors.

A rush of cold air smacked me in the face. How long had I been inside? I thought. If anyone had been following me he was long gone. And yet that didn't make me happy. I would have to go back to him, back to the church. I checked my watch, I had been gone two hours, he would get suspicious if I didn't have a good enough story.

I sighed, and walked down the street to where I couldn't be seen. The alleyway with the cats was quiet and secluded. With no witnesses around, I hopped onto the nearby rooftop and made my way back to the church.

###

I walked down the altar and towards the back room. Kotomine stood in the center while the "King of Heroes" himself laid back on the couch. He "greeted" me by lifting his chin to look down at me, as if he were gracing my presence.

"Lancer," Kotomine said.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Kid's still alive, boss."

Kotomine nodded, deep in thought. He was plotting something, and I wanted no part of it. Everything about the fake priest threw me for a loop. "How did this happen?"

"Summoned a Servant," I said, "I think I caught the words "Saber" somewhere between nearly dying."

"I see, that means the war has officially begun."

That was another thing that bothered me. Everywhere I went I got the same feeling, as if I've been there before, as if I belonged there. But whenever I hear the words "Holy Grail war" my mind drew a blank. What was different about it?

"And your memories?"  
"Still got nothing, boss," I said. "Maybe if ya hadn't sliced off my Master's arm like a piece of Grade A baloney before the ritual was complete I'd be able to tell you something useful."

Kotomine chuckled. "It matters not."

I grit my teeth, patience. The opportunity will present itself later. With three command spells at his beck and call, I was at his mercy.

He stared back at me, enjoying it. He knew. He knew what I wanted to do. And he was allowing it because my misery amused him so much.

I turned away, not being able to stand the look of his face. As I moved the doors to the church creaked open, and the voice of the Kid I tried to do in earlier echoed into the room. It was a brilliant "design flaw."

Kotomine left.

"Your antics bore me," Gilgamesh said. "I pray the second act proves more entertaining."

I ignored him and walked towards the window. That was the second problem. The "King of Heroes," Gilgamesh, laid on the couch with his feet up against the mahogany coffee table.

I remembered the lessons of Gilgamesh from somewhere. It was in a large half circular room with over a hundred people. Perhaps I went to college in my past life. His most powerful weapon should be in the "Epic of Gilgamesh" somewhere. Maybe the "Bow of Anshan," one of the weapons gifted to him from Shamash, his goddess mother. It would certainly fit the bill, as Gilgamesh was summoned as an Archer class.

"Fuck it," I said, not wanting to dwell on my thoughts. There was nothing to be done right now. I couldn't fight Kotomine or Gilgamesh in my current state. The night air rushed into the room as I cracked open the window.

I'm getting another drink.


	7. Shirou II

Shirou II

Fuyuki's iconic red bridge loomed in the distance. Bright stars shined in the midnight sky above, and I couldn't help but wonder what I was going to do next. I sat on a park bench, trying to compose my thoughts. Saber's presence loomed over me. We had just left the church, where Kotomine briefed me on the nature of the Holy Grail War. Giving up the command seals wasn't an option. This was an opportunity, a chance to be a hero.

However, doubt followed soon afterwards. With little skill in magecraft, and few resources, how was I going to win this? That was the only true way to prevent a terrible wish from being granted. But the question of how ran constant. It's in my nature to save people, but could I take someone's life to do so? Can I save everyone? Saber continued to hover in his spirit form. It was just the two of us now.

Archer and Rin had left in their own direction. In the end we couldn't reach an alliance, and Rin had said she was in too strong a position to be weighed down by me. Rin put on a tough front, saying that the Holy Grail war was one to the death, and we shouldn't expect mercy from each other. She had walked off claiming we would meet again as enemies.

But I sensed something else in it. In truth I had my doubts. Rin tries to act cold, but inside she's a softie. Why else would she go so far to help me?

But the message was a clear one. Could I really walk that path?

Lost in thought, I barely noticed something tugging on my sleeve. I leapt from the bench, raising my arms to defend myself. My vision narrowed as the thumping of my heart increased.

But all I saw was a white haired girl in a purple coat. She made no movements and stared back with a neutral expression. No malice or hostile intent radiated from her. Still, for some reason I couldn't relax. "Are you lost?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm with my onii-chan," she chirped.

But the park was empty save for a set of swings swaying in the wind. "I don't see him."

"Oh?" The girl smiled, as if holding a secret close. "I guess he's trying to find himself."

I cocked my eyebrow. What did she mean? Something greater hid behind that smile. Her words sounded true, yet omitting some important context.

"It's okay," she tackled me, "because you're my onii-chan too!"

The force knocked me off my feet, and I nearly fell onto the concrete.  
"Play with me onii-chan!"

I sighed, she's just a girl. I pushed her off, "I'm sorry..." I paused, trying to come up with a name.

She tilted her head in confusion.

"I didn't get your name."

"Oh!" She let go of me and curtsied. "Illyasviel von Einzbern."

"Illya?" I blurt out under my breath without thinking.

She frowned, the cheerful glint in her eyes disappeared.

I didn't know what to make of it. She felt dangerous somehow. And unease fell between us.

"She's a Master, you know," Saber said. His presence drew closer to my side, but he never left his spiritual form.

My eyes narrowed, and I resisted the urge to turn in the direction of Saber's voice. She's just a girl I tried to convince myself, but it made sense. Illya just felt so inhuman.

"Onii-chan?" Ilya asked with the innocence of a child, appearing confused at the way I looked at her.

I just stared back at her without blinking, unsure of what to do.

Illya sensed it. Her childlike demeanor melted away in the cool winter air to reveal a more adult nature. She leaned in close with a sharp terrifying smile. "I never got your name," she said. "It's unfair if you know my name and I don't know yours."

I pulled back, but the fear in me disappeared. A strange familiarity fell between the two of us, as if I knew her. Saber hung his head, the suffocating pang of regret radiated from him, perhaps it was affecting my judgement. Still, I steeled myself against it. "Emiya Shirou," I said.

Illya just smiled. She twirled around the swings as if she already knew the answer to my question. "You don't have to worry about me," she said. She stopped spinning and smiled. "I just want to talk."

The world spun around me. What did she mean? I wondered for a second if this was some sort of trick. She could be trying to get information from me. Yet I felt no animosity. I went for it. "What do you want to ask?"

"Hmm?" she placed her index finger on her lips. Their edges curled as she asked me her question. "Why are you fighting, onii-chan?"

"I want to be a hero," The answer was automatic. It was true, and I said it with unshakeable conviction.

Illya's smile shrunk. She remained happy, but her appearance took on a more serious air. "Why?" she asked.

I didn't want to answer right away. Instead I tried to turn the situation around. "Hey, I answered your question. Now it's my turn."

She laughed and lightly tapped her head with a closed fist. Illya stuck her tongue out in apology. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Why aren't you attacking us?" The war had just begun, it was a fair question.

"I want to know more about you." She refused to answer any further. "Same question as before."

I rocked my feet back and forth as they dangled over the bench side. The cool winter air blew by us and sent the swings along with it. The twinkling stars hid against the yellow streetlights. And in my mind's eye I remembered a cold wooden porch and broad shouldered man. I remembered Kiritsugu on the day he died, I admired the way he looked. "I promised my father I would."

The air froze between us. Illya stopped smiling and nodded. It was as if she knew this answer was coming. She frowned and stared at me with a pitiful face. "Do you know what a hero is?"

"I..." I started as a stiff breeze blew my bangs into my eyes. I brushed them out of the way and looked up to see an empty park. It was as if she had never even been there. I wondered for a second if I had hallucinated the whole thing, but something told me otherwise.

Saber materialized besides me, his black and white swords in hand. He stared off into the darkness with sadness. "What are your orders, Master?"

I looked for Illya, she couldn't have gone far. It wasn't safe for a girl her age to be out at night by herself, magus or not. But there was no way I could do it; no way I could order Saber to track her down. It was a dangerous choice, but I let her go, consequences be damned.

I turned to Saber. "Let's go home."

He smiled, "Good answer."


	8. Interlude I

Interlude I

How long had it been? I couldn't even guess. A week? A month? Years? Time is a fickle thing when the entire world is embroiled in an unending firestorm.

I tapped a traced spoon against a can, its contents a cold slop of poorly cooked chicken in wild rice soup. The metal tinning reverberated in the closest thing I would call a makeshift bomb shelter. Some poor family had probably cobbled it together during the height of the Allied bombing raids during the Second World War and then remained forgotten throughout the years. It was empty save for an ash-laden metal shelf when I'd stumbled upon it. It seemed that the scouring of that magical hellfire missed nothing.

Even were you to hide in the depths of the Earth it would find you. It found everyone and everything, leaving only a world of twisted metal spires and still smoldering rubble behind. It missed nothing. Except me.

I wolfed down the contents of the can. Cold. Empty. Tasteless save for the bitter ash that often found its way in my mouth during my forays through the corpse of civilization. That was why I'd settled in this... hole in the ground, anything to get out of the whirlwind of smoke and ash, even for a moment.

Just a moment to rest my eyes and forget myself. Just a moment to stop thinking, to stop remembering. Just a moment to escape that warped, malevolent tower that dominated the horizon. Just a moment's respite.

My arm throbbed.

I set the can down between my thighs and adjusted the ashen bandages that I'd wrapped around my torso and arm. Tighten. Tighten the bandages to dull the pain. Make it go away.

My throat itched. Thirsty again. A constant reminder of the reality I now found myself in and one that I had no means to solve.

Always. Always I felt the thirst; my throat was always burning. I haven't seen water since the morning of that final day. Yet, I only feel that dryness of mouth, that itch. I feel no fatigue, no nausea, nor cramps or lightheadedness. It has been who knows how long and I've yet to feel a single symptom of dehydration. I still sweat, though I had no idea how.

It was almost as if-

My arm throbbed.

I grasped my head with my hand.

No, no can't think like that. Don't want to think like that.

I pulled my spoon from the can of slop, bringing its meager foodstuffs to my mouth and forcing myself to swallow. Ash. It always tastes like ash.

My arm burned.

Why do I keep this façade up? I know what is going on. This is all a ritual to me. No matter what I eat, no matter how much I eat, that emptiness is still there. I hunger, eternally. This food provides no nourishment. I need no nourishment. It is likely the same with water and sleep, perhaps even air.

 _Punishment._

NO!

I release the prana that made up the spoon, letting it evaporate in a shower of light.

I'm normal! I can't think like this! I need to eat! I need to sleep! I need to drink! I need to breathe!

A loud metal clatter. Soup dripped down the ash-caked wall. Silence all but for the sounds of my own heavy breathing.

I collapsed back to the ground and pulled my legs to my chest. I wanted this to end. I needed this to end. It –will- end.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

I brought my hand up, forcing prana through my magical circuits and repeated my aria.

Trace on.

A crude, metal figure of Saber sat in my hand. I placed it to my side.

Trace on.

Another figure, this one looked like Taiga.

And another.

And another.

Friends and acquaintances, if I could put a face to them a figure of them was formed and placed by my side.

My breathing slowed. My mind cleared.

Keep grounded, keep calm.

That night I resolved myself to travel through the wastes to find something, anything that could end this nightmare.


	9. Shirou III

Shirou III

"Someone vandalized the school last night." We were barely on campus when Issei mentioned the obvious. Entire chunks of dirt and earth were cleaved from the ground. Whole patches of missing groundworks forced students to detour around it.

"Really?" I replied, knowing full well the source of said "vandalism."

"To disrupt a place of learning." He crossed his arms. "Truly a reprehensible act."

I agree. It was a reprehensible act for Lancer to kill me. I entirely resent the fact that it happened. But my thoughts drifted back to the school. We stepped over the shards of shattered glass as we entered the hallways. There would be more damage like this in the future. And it wouldn't be restricted the school, or me, either. It was my duty to end this war as quickly as possible.

But how? I had limited magus training, fighting against lifelong magi immersed in this sort of life-or-death struggle on a daily basis. How could I turn this situation around to stand even a remote chance?

I shook my head.

No, I had to do this, even if the probability of success was zero I would find a way, _had_ to find a way.

A hand landed on my shoulder, Issei, both waking me from my thoughts and stopping our progress through the hall.

He had a disgusted look on his face.

His gaze flew past a throng of first and second year students to see her. Rin, frozen in her tracks and staring my way. Her face betrayed no emotion, but in her eyes she was trying to decide whether to approach me. We hadn't exactly parted as friends last night.

She spun on her heels and walked in the opposite direction.

Going to ignore me, huh? Fair enough. I was more or less going to do the same.

"I don't know what you did to draw her ire, but I'd advise you to stop it," he said.

Afraid I can't do that.

"Serious. Tohsaka is bad news. As your close friend, you should cut your ties with her before she eats your immortal soul."

I blinked at him.

"You really hate Tohsaka, don't you?"

He nodded.

"There's something about that girl. It screams acting to me. Something else is buried underneath that façade. I've felt that since middle school."

You're more right than you think, Issei.

"Nothing going on between us last I checked."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"But, let's say hypothetically that what I was doing was privy to flustering her. What would you say to that?"

He smiled and flashed me a thumbs up.

And you're supposed to be a monk in training?

"Okay... and let's say that the worst came to pass and there was something going on between us?"

"Then I will pray for you."

Thanks.

"In any case, shall we get going to the Student Council room? I'm starving." He clapped his hands together.

I apologized to Issei, making up some excuse that I'd promised to help another student with something. I rummaged through my bag and handed off Issei's lunch to him.

Even after last night I still woke up early to prepare lunch for myself and Issei. The act of cooking was relaxing, and in times of stress find myself further drawn to it. Furthermore, there was a certain joy in having others enjoy your work. I'd even offered to make extra for Saber, but he declined. He said he'd much prefer to cook for himself.

I left Issei to his lunch and made my way to the roof. Even in the school day dreariness of Homurahara Academy my mind continued to drift back to the Grail War. We needed a plan.

The cityscape of Fuyuki City stretched towards the horizon. The warm winter sun casted a sense of illusionary harmony. We needed to win to protect this city.

"You're there aren't you, Saber?" I said.

"Did a bit of scouting, but yes." A voice echoed in my head "I've been by your side in spirit form. Your friend Issei seems to have a good head on his shoulders.

"He does," I said.

"One of many you would like to protect," Saber said.

I nodded. The longer this war dragged on, the more collateral damage and casualties there'd be. Rin I wasn't entirely concerned about in that respect. Though she put on the air of being a dutiful mage concerned with upholding the masquerade, I didn't think she's involve innocents. The fact that I was still standing here was proof enough.

But I couldn't say the same about the other masters. Aside from Rin, I've only met Illya so far, and I can't vouch for her character. Every other Master is a wildcard. Your typical magus doesn't care about innocent lives. The masquerade was their top priority and nothing else. If they felt they could level a city block and get away with it, they would. Kotomine said as much.

I told Saber my thoughts.

"These are good concerns to have, Master," he said, "and you are correct that the other Masters won't be as forgiving as Rin."

I nodded.

The only way to limit collateral damage was to remove the Servants from play as quickly and efficiently as possible. Fighting the, directly wasn't a guaranteed victory, nor did it remove the chance that the fight itself would draw in innocent lives. Still, it increased my odds a bit.

"And my Master is aware that the most efficient way to remove the other Masters from play is to kill them?" Saber said.

I nodded.

"Even if we were to beat the Servant, that still leaves the Master free to form a contract with any Masterless Servant later on. but, this is the only way."

Even without a physical body, I felt Saber's stern look.

"And my Master is certain that this is the strategy he would like to choose?"

Of course not.

I wanted to save everyone, even the other Masters. I wanted to at least give them a chance, even if it killed me. Could I really steal the life of a few just so that a great many others could live?

No, that wasn't the world I wanted.

"Well, Shirou? Is this how you would like me to approach this War?"

Saber was measuring me.

A breath caught in my throat. What if Saber disagreed? What if he truly believed that a brutally quick conclusion to the War was the best approach?

Even still, that wasn't what I wanted. If Saber disagreed, then I would have to use my command seals. It may be the harder path by far, it may cost me my life, it may put even more people at risk, but I could only accept one possible answer.

"I want a world where _everyone_ can be happy." I said.

A laugh.

"And this is the wish of my Master?"

I nodded.

Saber considered this.

A tingle ran down my spine in anticipation as I prepared to use another command seal.

"A good answer."

I exhaled.

I relayed my plan until the bell rang signaling the start of the next class period.

Tonight and every night from this point on we would patrol Fuyuki City to prevent the endangerment of any civilians as well as to locate the hideouts of the other Masters. Once we can ascertain the location of the other Masters we could engage them on our terms.

Saber even advised that enemy number one would be Caster, who are capable of overpowering the other servants if left to their own devices for too long. I agreed.

###

The first night of patrols. The first night of action. It was refreshing, a degree of control over what was happening. The weight of uselessness lifted from my shoulders.

Cold night air licked my face as I stalked the empty suburbs of Miyama Town. No one was out this late at night except for the odd vagrant or a stray dog that whimpered and quickly slinked away. Good.

I carried a reinforced shinai as I walked the streets. Saber hovered in his spirit form, a precaution in case anyone were to spot us. We didn't have to walk far when I spotted the dark figures of shadowy wisps on the roof of Firo's butcher shop.

I took off, sprinting towards them. I could feel the magical radiating from the area, this had to be an enemy servant! It turned its head towards me and I froze.

Where it's eyes should be were a pair of white glowing orbs. It pierced into my soul with a mournful expression. The jagged darkness that made up its mouth frown at me. A sense of emptiness and loss fell on me, as if it were trying to tell me how it felt. I wanted to know what it was. But before I could figure that out it attacked.

It leaped off the roof and pounced on me. I swung my shinai at it, it cut right rough the ghost's midsection, but it pushed on without slowing a beat. It fell on me and for the second time in two nights I was falling. The cold cement knocked the wind out of me. I let out a gasp and tried to roll away, but the monstrous creature pinned me down.

In its eyes was seared the image of a tall purple structure. It burned with a fiery hatred, one of frustration and longing. He didn't kill me, it didn't make any other movements. Instead it stared at me to sear the same image into my mind. I saw the images of a dead world, and felt a bitter hopelessness in myself. Tears formed at my eyes as I tried to struggle away. As I pulled away the weight left me.

Saber stood over the creature with his swords in hand. He kicked at it once more before slicing it up. The magical energy in his weapons destroyed it in one swift motion. A cloud of dust exploded in the alleyway as it died. Saber walked through it without a care and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it up and pulled me up from the ground. He gave me a few reassuring pats on the back before disappearing back into spirit form. "Don't let your guard down," he said.

I nodded and tried to keep my spirits up. But it was no use. I had failed and needed help of my servant on what looked like an easy familiar. I sulked the rest of the night, which thankfully turned out to be uneventful.


	10. Assassin I

Assassin I

Blood worms echoed throughout the basement. Their terrible shrieks rang off the granite walls and flooring. Shivers ran up my spine. Each and every tremor of their wriggling bodies sent shivers up my spine. For once, I was glad to be blind.

"Assassin," said the human shaped mass of parasitic worms. It had no heart, nor organs. Gone was the pulse, and other signs of bodily functions. To call it human would be inaccurate at best, blasphemy at worst. It was simply a thousand different worms tied together into... something.

The air was putrid and stale. Tough to inhale as it clogged its way into your lungs "I ask of you, are you my Master?" I said. It was the Grail War, and I had been summoned as a heroic spirit. I had all the requisite knowledge provided to me by the Grail. I would need it, for it has been too long. What was the world like before the Age of Heroes? When justice was an actual concept and rule of law prevailed? What was life like before it all changed? I had forgotten. The knowledge bestowed upon me felt empty. Like reading from the book.

"Yes, good. Now which heroic spirit are you?" it said as the contract between us completed. It was distasteful. A strong and forceful bond I will tolerate for now.

"I have no name." I had one once. It was lost, discarded long ago after the war. Only a single word could describe me. "I am Justice."

It cackled, an evil shrill in my ears. Somehow it articulated by vibrating a string of worms like makeshift vocal cords. "How fitting, to summon the physical embodiment of justice as an Assassin."

I stepped away from it. The sounds of worms gave out a low vibration. I could feel the room. My bare feet registered the careful movements of everything in the room. Worms, some on the floor below us, moving like living carpet. The rest made up the being that I called my Master. Their sounds bounced off the walls, creating a perfect image in my mind. An empty space on the wall was the way out. "What is our course of action?"

"There is another Servant among us," it said, "Rider's loyalty is suspect, and I have little faith in my grandson to win the war."

I nodded. Shinji was a terrible excuse of a man. A walking bag of sin and debauchery. Rider would do anything to rid herself of him. "What shall you have me do to her?"

"Nothing, simply observe him from afar, you are my insurance policy."

Him? I thought. Was Rider not the great Medusa I remembered? Further research was required. Perhaps this Grail war and mine will be different. Prior knowledge may not help as much. "Understood." I said as I stepped into the shadows. The consuming darkness dragged me in as I faded away. I will obey for now, but I have no interest in the Grail.

I clutched the sword at my side. I had a gift to return and a debt to repay. He was still walking around. There was no way he wouldn't be around. I could feel it in my bones. Yes, I didn't want the grail. Any of the other Servants can have it. No, my desires are much simpler.

I only wanted vengeance.


	11. Saber II

Saber II

"Don't feel down," I said. "I spent most of my first fight in a ditch in a cemetery." A smile crept over me, as a nostalgic memories of youth return. "Then it exploded."

We walked back from the patrol, which aside from the one encounter proved to be boring. It was the early stages of the war, so it made sense that few masters were about. However, Shirou's performance in the matter cast a dark mood over him. He had failed his first fight against one of Caster's familiars. It was over in a flash and he was unable to do anything about it. So I tried to cheer him up whatever way I could.

"Honestly, I'm surprised I lived as long as I did." I touched the wedding ring on my hands with a reminiscent smile.

"What happened?" he asked.

I paused to collect my thoughts. For once it seemed I had nothing to say. But the melancholy disappeared as soon as it came. I tried to phrase the events in a way without revealing too many spoilers. "My wife and I were pinned down in a fight against an enemy familiar. It was this massive uncontrollable monster that destroyed everything in sight. We had taken it to the cemetery to move it away from civilian neighborhoods. I tried what I could, but my partner ended up doing all the work."

He nodded. The story resonating with him. The emotion he felt was the same as the one I felt that day. One of helplessness in the face of overwhelming odds, wishing you could something, anything against it. "What happened?" he asked.

The memory of Archer found me. For some reason I found it amusing that he was the still same person. I let out a roarous laugh. "My wife's partner blew up the cemetery. Asshole ended up betraying us later and we got into a nasty fight over it, but I think it all turned out okay." I gave him a massive grin. Shirou's demeanour relaxed.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

"My partner trained me," I said. "She literally beat the lessons into me. Wife taught me magecraft."

"She?" he asked, but I could tell it was the second statement that drew his interest.

"Little blonde girl from England. Feisty in person, but deadly in business," I said, and paused when I noticed the expression on his face. "To answer your next question I am a magus, albeit a poor one."

I let the thought sink in for a little bit as we continued our walk. The empty streets of the neighborhood were at peace. Only the random flickering of worn out street lights made mention that anything was wrong with the place. It felt peaceful, as it should be. Shirou led the way home in silence trying to muster the courage to ask the next question.

I knew what he wanted to ask me. Any other master would have demanded to know about my magecraft and other abilities. I would prove invaluable in the war, and much more important than the trivial demand we both really wanted. I knew who he was, and his question didn't come as a surprise to me at all. "Will you teach me how to fight?" he asked.

"Sure," I said without hesitation.


	12. Caster I

Caster I

I greeted the sick and the dying in the ICU of the hospital. They returned the favor with smiles and cheers, struggling through their injuries and illnesses just to see me. No one questioned my presence, and even those with lingering thoughts of doubt never voiced them. I was just a holy man, a wandering monk. I brought them peace, and eased their pains. The patients were in good hands, figuratively speaking.

I touched a patient on the forehead with my only arm. A gentle pressure from my right hand relaxed and soothed him. He suffered from third degree burns over sixty percent of his body. The man would go in peace, and in return I would accept the prana he offered.

Equivalent exchange.

To create, something of equal value must be sacrificed. It is the foundation of all Magecraft. There is no circumventing this rule. No exceptions, even to the Gods. That which cannot be created, nor destroyed.

I did not know the poor man's name, but it did not matter. He was dead now. I had given him the gift of death. I had saved him from a life of torment and pain. Jealousy sunk its claws into me for a brief moment, before loosening its grip. I shook it off. My time would come.

The prana, no matter how insignificant will go a long way. Small or large, a drop in the bucket or an ocean, I will make use all of it, and that is all that matters. I waste nothing.

Dr. Tenma rushed to the bed with a trio of nurses, exhausted and disheveled all of them. He looked over the charts, frantically trying to understand the madness. Having come up with nothing, he was forced to pronounce the man dead.

"He is at peace now, Doctor," I spoke in hushed tones. I do not raise my voice, nor stress any words. Speaking was awkward for me, and I found myself in the odd position of having to relearn it.

Dr. Tenma glanced back and forth between the patient and I. I could see it on his face. A lingering thought of doubt, of grasping at straws for an explanation. But there was a logical one in his mind, and he sighed, thinking himself mad for thinking me a murderer. People die in hospitals all the time, the man was improving, but it was obviously the calm before the storm. Like a crashing airplane ascending one last time before its demise. "Thank you, monk," he finally said. "At least he wasn't alone when he died."

I nodded my head, and gave him a small prayer. May the patients in his care find peace.

I left the ICU for the elevator, and returned to my workshop residing in the basement of the hospital. Like the Doctor and their Interns, I too have finished with my rounds. It was a mercy, unlike the poor souls in the church of the false priest, I allowed them release.

"Where have you been, Caster?" my Master said as I stepped into the basement. He was a fat, balding security guard with delusions of grandeur and no sense of patience. He understood no strategies, nor truly cared for the Grail. Instead he wished to use me for his petty vindictive crimes.

I played along with it, if only to steer his insanity to more productive measures. A nurse had spurned his advances, and he wished to use my magecraft to seduce and humiliate her. I rejected the notion outright, not due to concern for the woman, but that it would be a waste of prana. I offered instead to create him jewels of vast riches instead. Money will buy him all the love he wants.

"Tending to the patients, Master," I said, "a holy man would see to the sick and the dying, otherwise the facade falls apart."

He snorted. "Why not just use your magic mumbo jumbo to convince them you're a doctor or something?"

"Why should I use prana to deceive someone when I can do the same without magecraft?" I sighed, the man's lack of critical thinking astonished me. He was not even a magus. Just an overbearing man-child who found a random book hoping to inflict a curse on someone for their perceived offenses. If not for his lack of magic circuits, I would not need to siphon prana from the populous. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

"That's not the point!" he said.

It was exactly the point.

"If you have all this power why bother hiding it?" he jabbed his finger at me, more an oversized sausage ready to burst from its casing than anything else. "I would take over the world, I would rule everything!"

I rolled my eyes. "I am a poor magus, without a near infinite source of prana I am powerless." It was the truth. If I did not have a vast reserve to draw prana from I was powerless. "That is why I need the Holy Grail."

He nodded his head, the little obese hamster trotting ever so slowly in the exercise wheel of his brain. "Yes, and then everyone will have to treat me with respect."  
My poor idiotic Master. You too will be given my salvation when the time comes. Do not fret, I do not discriminate. But for now I will let him live in his delusions, playing God. "Patience Master, I have a plan to eliminate the other Servants. All we have to do is wait for them to kill each other off. And then we will swoop in like carrion birds, rooting through their corpses for our prize."

He smiled, convinced for now, and waddled off in some direction, I did not bother to check; no doubt late for work and ready to blame it on someone else.

I will win the Grail, I was certain of it. But I cared not for ruling the world. It was always mine.  
No. I wanted something else. Something that always eluded me. Something that I could never achieved no matter how much I tried. Untold millennia of research have finally bore fruit, and my plan finally begun to unfold.

I wanted death.


	13. Shirou IV

Shirou IV

I dreamt of a kitchen. A large glorious kitchen I hoped to have one day. And leaning against the black marble-topped counter was a white haired man. He stared out the window, drinking in the brisk morning air of the English countryside; at peace. The man opened the smooth mahogany cabinets and pulled out a large mixing bowl.

"What are we going to make today, Daddy?" cried a child.

She was young, no more than four years of age, and hopped up and down the side of the counter trying to catch a peek. Her straight black hair shone underneath the rising sun.

The man smiled, "we're making pancakes, Darling." He picked her up and sat her on the island beside him, her feet kicked back and forth as they dangled over the edge.

The girl's face lit up.

"Yay, pancakes!" she cheered, showing off all twenty of her teeth with pride.

The man placed the large mixing bowl between the two of them, along with a bag of flour. He handed his daughter a measuring cup, and gave the exact measurements to place inside of the bowl. She followed his direction dutifully, sifting the flour and then using both hands to hold onto the cup as she poured milk into the bowl. "I forgot to get a spoon, silly me," the man said, and turned to go find one.

He searched the drawers behind him, looking for a large spoon to mix the ingredients together. He examined each closely, judging its size and potential. This one was too small, this one was too long. At last he settled on a good wooden spoon that had buried itself in the back with the spatula.

But when he turned around he saw his daughter already mixing the bowl. Between her tiny hands was a large steel spoon he had never seen before. His knees trembled, and he took a gulp before he spoke. "Abby, where..." he paused, his voice shook, "where did you get that?"

She smiled, continuing to mix the bowl. "Made it!" she said.

His hands felt weak, and the grip on his spoon loosened. It slipped from his hands and clattered onto the ground. Tears welled up from his eyes as he inched over towards the girl.

"Daddy" she looked up, her eyes wide and her smile gone.

He picked her up and held her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he let go. The floodgates opened and tears poured down his face as he wept.

###

I opened my eyes to the blurry rays of morning light that slowly grew clearer as they adjusted to the brightness. The taste of ash lingered at the tip of my tongue with a dawning realization that made its way to my consciousness.

Last night's memories came flooding back, followed by the pangs of uselessness and regret. I had let Saber down, and worse, I had let myself down. My first fight ended with me helpless and nearly killed, saved only by the intervention of my servant.

Saber's twin swords came to mind. They seemed familiar, easy to grasp. In fact, the style that Saber fought with felt as though it were something that I could understand, maybe even use.

I stretched and worked the soreness from my arms and legs resolving myself to ask Saber about his sword-style after I finished my morning routine.

I folded my futon and washed up, switching out of my nightwear and into the familiar white and blue shirt. Right, breakfast, I needed to fix it before Sakura and Taiga got here. I'd have to set some bentos aside for myself and Issei as well.

I opened the sliding door of my bedroom and walked to the kitchen at a brisk pace. A good start to the day was needed. My mind danced on what I could make-and was snapped back to attention as I drew closer. What was that smell? Food? It's too early, Sakura couldn't possibly be here yet and I know for a fact that Taiga was incapable of even steaming rice, let alone cook.

A gray haired, tan man stood in the nook of my dining room. My Servant in the Holy Grail War, Saber, while wearing an apron over his black dress shirt, was stir frying vegetables.

My mind tried to cope with the weird scene playing out before me.

Saber looked up.

"Ah, good morning, Shirou," he quickly spread powdered chicken broth over the wok, "did you sleep well?"

"Uh." I stepped forward to inspect the work he had been doing. Several plates of pancakes sat on the countertop ready to be moved to the table.

"One of my favorites, hope you don't mind," he said. "The stir fry is for your lunch."

I paused for a second to respond. I wanted to ask him why he was in my kitchen, but more pressing matter concerned me. "Thanks, but I was thinking of skipping school."

Saber cocked his head to his side in curiosity. He nodded somewhat, but didn't say anything.

"We're going to spend today training."

Saber smiled. "Very well," he said. "We'll begin after breakfast."

I wanted to jump from my seat. I was going to learn to fight! But the joy faded from me as fast as it came I gave Saber a quizzical look that only grew as he took a seat at the table.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Waiting for the fun to start," he said, an enormous grin plastered onto his face.

"But-"

"Mornin' Shirou~!" roared the unmistakable voice of Taiga Fujimura from the hallway.

"Good morning, senpai. Sorry for the intrusion," said the comparatively quieter Sakura.

I looked at Saber expecting him to return to his spirit form, but instead he just smiled back as if my panic were the funniest thing in the world.

###

"I didn't know that Kiritsugu had a friend from overseas," Taiga said between mouthfuls.

"A surprise, no?" Saber smiled. "He had more than he let on."

"He wanted to check in on me," I said.

Saber poured a glass of orange juice for Taiga.

"I was in the neighborhood on business, and being that I'm unfamiliar with the area Shirou graciously offered to let me stay here for the duration."

A clever, thrown together lie. Saber told it with such grace that even I was convinced of it. It was as if it was rehearsed, definitely thought up beforehand.

Sakura focused on Saber after finishing with her plate. Her gaze lingered, almost as if she recognized him.

"Have you never been to Fuyuki City before, Saber-san?" she said.

"Oh, I was here once a _long_ time ago. I must have been a kid at the time."

Taiga slammed her fork down.

"You don't really feel Japanese to me, Saber-san," she coughed out, "too tall and tan. Your mannerisms are foreign to boot."

Saber paused in reflection, a smirk crept its way onto his face. "Take my word for it, but I am in fact Japanese. Though, admittedly, I lived a large part of my life in England," he laughed as if he were telling some sort of private joke. "So maybe that's what you're feeling?"

"Hmm..." Taiga put down her chopsticks for a moment, mulling over Saber's words. A variety of expressions visited her face, ranging from confusion to rage before finally settling on acceptance. "Good enough for me!" she gave a thumbs up. "Any friend of Kiritsugu is welcomed here!" She said as if she lived here.

She inched over towards Saber.

"Shirou might even benefit from having a more manly influence around!"

Saber looked uncomfortable.

I sighed, glad that Taiga had bought it, although I'm a little upset over how unconcerned she seemed. She would be less forgiven if Saber were a girl. She would never have let that one slide.

"Welp, I got to go!" Taiga jumped out of her seat. "Oh," she turned her attention to Saber and winked, "make sure these two stay out of trouble, Saber-san."

"Will do Fuji-n-" Saber paused mid-sentence, "Fujimura-sensei."

What was that? I'll have to remember to ask him about that later. I turned my attention back to Sakura, who was sneaking glances at Saber while pretending to watch TV. Rumors of a gas leak in the Western district.

"Don't worry, it's probably nothing," I reassured her, but suspected that the Grail War was somehow involved.

Saber looked at me from the corner of his eye, confirming my doubts. He excused himself from the table, and began gathering the plates.

"Allow me," Sakura said.

Saber began to protest, but backed off. When Sakura made up her mind there was no changing it. "Okay," he smiled, probably realizing the same thing. "I have some business to take care of anyways."

"I'll help," I said as Saber made his exit. I cleared the plates from the table, and helped Sakura take them to the kitchen. The frigid water stung my hands as I washed the dishes.

"Senpai," Sakura said. She hung her head low, staring at the bruises on my hands.

"It's nothing," I dove them deeper into the water to hide them. "Just hurt myself fixing the washing machine."

She nodded in silence.

"Sakura," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" she squeaked, caught off guard by the tone of my voice. "W-what is it?"

I didn't know how to put it, so I decided to be as blunt as possible. "I'm skipping school today," I said.

Sakura frowned, she didn't ask any questions. I felt it was too easy. Her response made me uneasy, but I returned the favor by not asking any questions of her. It was dangerous, and I didn't want her to get caught up in the war.

"Just go home after school and be careful, okay?"

We finished the dishes soon after and I wished them well as they left for school. With breakfast done, I turned my mind to the dojo.

###

"I'm going to teach you the way I learned." Saber stood at the end of the Dojo. In his hands were his black and white swords. Kanshou and Bakuya he called them. Saber kept his word, and after school we begun the first round of my training. I thought I would be excited.

However, the way he spoke gave me chills. And I found myself feeling very much afraid. Was he really going to use real weapons?

"First things first," he said, "you must train your mind. If you can't defeat it, you must imagine what can."

My hands clutched another pair of the same swords Saber held. They felt odd. Familiar. As if they were extensions of my body.

"Are you ready?"

I tightened my grip on the handles and nodded.

The slick wooden floorboards felt smooth as they rubbed against my cheek. I blinked. What just happened? A black blur and the sharp intake of pain registered in my mind. Saber's tan boots appeared out of the corner of my blurred vision.

"Hmm... I guess she went REALLY easy on me," he muttered.

My head throbbed, but I forced myself up. A dull aching pain sat on the side of my neck. I raised my hands again, readying for the next-

My left arm shot out at an awkward angle. The clash of steel echoed off the walls. I actually blocked-

The ground was cold. So very cold.

Saber grabbed me by the shoulder and forced me up. My neck snapped downward as my body accelerated off the the ground. "What the-" I tried to say before he threw me.

I skid across the dojo as I tried to regain my balance. Saber waited for a second and then attacked.

He slapped me against my side with the flat of the blade. "Too slow!" My arms moved on their own, desperate to keep pace. Pain surprised me at different parts of my body. I tried to go on the offense and slashed at his chest, no concern for his safety anymore.

An elbow to the neck, and a kick in the gut was my reward. Saber followed up by smacking the flat of Kanshou against my face.

This continued for hours before I found myself lying face down on the floor. Blood from superficial cuts dripped as I struggled to get up. The pain replaced by a uniform feeling of unease, my nerves so overloaded that they simply gave up on registering any more damage.

"Uhh." My muscles burned as I pushed myself up. Sweat and blood washing over my hands. They were empty now, my blades destroyed by Saber's onslaught. But still, progress has been made. I had been able to block some of his attacks. I stood up, ready for more, but felt empty without a sword in my hand.

"Imagine it," Saber said.

I closed my eyes. The image of the swords surfaced from the depths of my mind. Lines ran up and down my vision; magical circuits. Something inside me clicked as I tried to create one. Prana flowed through my system at a much faster rate, seconds instead of hours.

Static.

A pistol pointed down my throat. It fired.

The pressure increased and my body burned.

I could see it. My body shook, and the pain ran the length of my spine. Blood forced its way out of mouth. I was losing my mind.

"AGGH."

Saber grabbed my hand just as it was nearing completion. "I forgot about the nerve thing," he said under his breath.

I fell back as he let me go. The pain was gone, replaced by numbness.

Saber examined me, looking over my cuts and bruises. "I think we're done for today, not bad for a first try. The feeling should return in half a day."

I nodded.

"And one last thing," Saber's expression changed. Despite looking right at me seemed to be staring off in the distance, as if remembering something. "You don't need to create a new magic circuit every time you use magic."

"I didn't..." I paused, Kiritsugu never properly taught me magic. "I didn't know that."

Saber smiled. "In your haste you re-awoke your magic circuits. The shock of it is what's causing the numbness in your body. From now on you should be able to use them without effort. Well, emphasis on _should_."

The doors to the dojo slid open. It must have been Sakura coming early for dinner. I turned to greet her, but stopped. I was wrong.

Archer stood between the door frames. Blood trickled down his face and his eyes narrowed with anger. Rin stood by his side, leaning against his arm. Burn marks singed her red top.

"About..." She gave me a weak smile, desperate, but failing, to keep her facade. "About that alliance."


	14. Interlude II

Interlude II

I stood on the gallows of Marienplatz square with a noose wrapped firmly around my neck. My breathing was steady and relaxed.

I deserved this.

A lifetime of betrayal, alone, chasing the hill of swords in the pursuit of an illusion. Years had passed since the Holy Grail War, and I have finally found myself at an end. The crowd stood a stone's throw away, rage and tears on their faces.

They crowded together in a mass, packed like sardines, kicking and screaming in my direction. A small child, no older than eight picked a stone off the ground and held it in her hands. She looked at it pensively, before throwing it.  
The rock flew through the air, up in a parabolic path before returning to the ground, landing just short of the policemen's feet. Dozens of riot cops formed a phalanx with their curved plexiglass shields, motionless, with their weapons drawn. The crowd was not here to jeer me, but to protest my execution.

I am guilty. I had confessed. And my death is the peace offering to end this war. Please. This had gone on for far too long.

The executioner stepped in front of me, a plain dressed cop who I knew only as "Karl." His face was neutral, but betrayed by the tears streaming from his face. This is not what he wanted to do, he believed this to be some sort of injustice.

"Please," he croaked, "reconsider."

I hung my head and stared at his feet. I could easily escape, the bindings were weak and the security unwilling to carry on. My swords could slice through the noose and reinforcing my legs would get me far away. It was too easy.

But I shook my head.

I was tired.

What would I do if I escaped? Where would I go? A few more years of fighting, of killing, of trying to find a way to save everyone? No, this was the best way to end. If I fought more people would die, if I had escaped everything would go to hell. I had to sacrifice the few to save the many. And for once, that one to save ten could be me.

Steel the mind, I thought, kill the heart.

"I'm sorry for the distress I'm causing you," I said. "Please continue."

He looked towards the crowd. They were getting restless, and inched closer and closer towards the police. The two sides pressed against each other, pushing and shoving, neither one budging. They cried for my release, for a stay of execution.

I was their hero. Their salvation. The "Hero of Justice" they all wanted.

I sighed.

I am a monster.

The more I killed, the more I betrayed my allies, the more "heroic" I became in their eyes. One became a hundred, and a hundred became thousands. But no matter how many died, many more flocked to me, ready to put down their lives.

And I used them.

They became pawns, weapons at my disposal, and their blood paved the way for peace. And soon I found myself all alone in the crowd. But now I can finally atone. A few more minutes of life, and then there would be peace.

"Any l-last words?" Karl stuttered, unbelieving.

There was nothing left to say.

Karl stared at me for a second before tearing his face way. He walked over to the lever, grasping it with trembling hands.

The crowd screamed and jeered, they rushed the gallows through the line. Weapons were drawn and several cops went down, bleeding all over the ground.

In self defense the officers were forced to defend themselves. They fired into the crowd.

No. Anything, but this.

I rushed to stop them, but it was too late.

The trapdoor dropped, and a brief second of weightlessness took over me. I saw a fire. My father's face. The war. A purpled haired girl. Sakura. The only woman I ever loved. The first person I betrayed. The first of many.

I just wanted to be a hero.

I just wanted peace.

Tears poured from my eyes, obscuring my vision. Through my distorted view I could see the crowd crying as they died, rushing every towards me. To save their hero and rectify an injustice. But it is for not, just more blood on my hands. I knew all of their faces, all of their names.

And then I saw only darkness.


	15. Rider II

Rider II

I stood by her bed, staring out the window, the familiar scent of peaches drifting up from the linen. I watched Sakura as she left in the early morning, happily pretending to be normal. She had gone to see "me." It was maddening. Every day was the same, she wiped off the tears and left before the sun rose, ready to go to the one thing in her life that made her feel alive.

I hung my head. "I'm sorry."

Her bed was made, and her room empty, with a single stuffed bear propped against the loveseat in the corner. You never would have guessed a girl lived here. In fact, you could argue that no one lived here at all.

My grip tightened around the bedpost, I wanted to run after her, screaming, yelling, and apologizing as I choke back the tears. I held up my hands. Pale and riddled with scars; and drenched in blood. It seeped between the prints, staining its way to the bone.

I focused my mind on the image of a dagger. I know thousands of blades, all capable of killing, but this one was different; jagged in shape, not designed to kill. Prana swelled in my hands, giving it form.

Rule Breaker.

The blade of betrayal.

How fitting.

I held my breath, waiting until the count of three, and drove it towards my heart. It would not kill me. Not physically.

I stopped.

The tip of the blade hovered an atom above my chest, unable to move any closer. Every time.

I destroyed the dagger and slammed my fist against the wall.

"Why?" I whispered.

Was it my connection with Sakura? I could feel it, a torrent of mana flooded my circuits, leaving me stronger than I could have ever hoped. This was different than what I remembered. The Rider of my war was shackled to Shinji and unable to get mana from him. She was instead forced to drink the souls of the city folk to survive. I was thankful for not being afflicted with such a curse, I would sooner end my existence then resort to such lows. My contract with Sakura remained intact and stronger than ever, I couldn't break it even if I tried any harder.

Zouken had seen to that. He was a master of manipulation, capable of reading my every thought from the moment I was summoned. He was not surprised at my reaction when Sakura informed me about Shinji serving as my master, only at the severity of it, and the loss of a second command spell.

But he did not appear fazed by the setback. In fact, it served to amuse him further. A feeling that he knew rankled my very core. He kept my contract with Sakura alive, but at a cost. The strain weakened her, exhausted her, even the act of getting up in the morning fatigued her. If not for the fact that she would see my younger self, I doubt she would even leave the house.

So Shinji would serve as de facto master anyways. Through him he would execute "Sakura's will," as the pile of worms described it. And to prevent me from killing Shinji he created the Book of False attendant with three imitation command spells for his use. I did not know it was possible, but the Matous did create the original command spells after all. They were not as strong, but I knew they would suffice to keep me in line. He knew I wouldn't harm Sakura, my outburst had proven that. Zouken didn't need her last command spell to keep me obedient to her, only to Shinji.

But that didn't stop me from cutting the contract with her. And yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. Was I afraid of betraying her again? I remembered the church, and it's ingenious "design flaw." It was only later did I learn that she heard everything. I just wanted to be hero, I just wanted to save as many people as I could. What was one life?

It was hers, and she accepted her fate only because she had nothing left to live for.

"Rider," it said.

I turned around; Shinji, wearing his smug overbearing look. Pity he hadn't slipped on the stairs and broken his neck yet. He slithered over towards me, the glint of arrogance in his eyes.

That was another problem. After using Rule Breaker on myself, what would I do? Sakura was still at Zouken's mercy, and without a plan I would not have the prana to survive. Nothing would change. I could run to my younger self and tell him everything, he would never turn down the opportunity to help someone, even if it cost him his life. Or perhaps he would do the same as I did, sacrificing her for the world.

"Gramps just told me that Rin is a Master," Shinji flashed a lecherous smile, reveling in his rapist fantasies. "Let's go get her."

I turned back towards the window, the sun was up and stray beams of light shone onto the bed. No path, but one. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I sighed, forcing myself to keep it together for just a little longer. Sakura grew weaker by the minute. I couldn't afford to dally any further. The best solution to my problem was to win the war as quickly as possible.

Steel the mind, kill the heart.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to myself as I left Shinji behind in her room looking like the idiot he truly was.

###

The Tohsaka residence stood on the very edge of the western district. I watched it from my perch, having waited all day for the perfect moment, the shadows grew further away from me as the sun set from behind. This would bring me no joy.

Rin had wanted to win the war as much as I did, and she was stubborn to the end. She threw everything into it, obsessed and driven by a single desire to make sure her sister's sacrifice was not in vain. We came into conflict over it, the Grail was corrupt, and our paths collided. I watched as she bled to death, her skin growing paler as she clutched the pendant around my neck. She smiled as she died, and forgave me for my sins.

"At least this will be quick," I said.

The distance was a little over three kilometers. I held up my left arm and traced my bow. Matte black and of simple design, it had served me well.

Shinji sat on a nearby rock, watching the show with the impatience of a toddler. He wanted to attack head on like an idiot. I wanted to gut him like a fish. And it looked like no one was going to be happy today.

"Trace on," I said. Caladbolg formed in my hand, the original demon sword of Fergus mac Róich. I nocked the blade and grasped the pommel with three fingers. The tension was magnificent, and my back struggled for a second as I drew it back.

Prana surged into the makeshift arrow, applying reinforcement to twist it to my needs, taking on a spiral shape. It was almost ready, there was one last step. I peered into the sword, feeling its core, knowing its history and wants. It became hollow, twisted, and broken.

Shinji's mood changed, and he started giggling like a two-year-old. His approval filled me with shame.

I stared down at the house in the distance. Rin would be getting ready to go on patrol, hunting for another Master or Servant. She would be in the living room, having one last cup of tea before hitting the town.

My breath stopped.

I took aim, placing the house directly in my sights.

"Steel the mind, kill the heart," I whispered; and loosed.

Caladbolg flew in a straight path, no curvature, no gravity, like a missile locked onto its target, a bright red trail forming in its wake. For a second I prayed that it would miss. But I never missed.

The house lifted clear off the ground, it hovered in the air for a fraction of a second, before a spark went off, and it went off in every direction. The shockwave came soon after, shaking the ground and nearly knocking me off my feet. Rubble rained on me, and I couldn't help but actually smile when Shinji ran into the forest looking for cover. But my work was not done.

Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty tops, before the authorities would arrive. I called the city earlier to report the hint of natural gas in the area. Among the hysteria people would point to the obvious answer: a pipeline explosion. It wouldn't matter how unbelievable the story was, this happened in the western district, and Japan had little love for foreigners.

I jumped over the ledge, my trench coat flowing in the wind. Three kilometers was nothing for a heroic spirit. Kanshou and Bakuya formed in my hands as I stepped onto the road and ran, prana surged into my legs, an endless supply from my true Master.

The house had been destroyed to the foundation, the furniture in the living room was the only thing left standing. A raging fire burned all around me, engulfing the neighborhood in smoke and flames. The red shroud wrapped around my face served to filter me from the environment.

I stepped over the rubble and stood in the center of the house. A single glint of red light reflected my own image. It was Rin's-no, my pendant.

I knelt down and cleared off a piece of cement, letting it shine amongst the inferno. A pale reflection of myself stared back at me, too afraid to leave the confines of the surface lest it see me in person.

"Trace, on."

I ran forward, just as my surroundings exploded, kicking up dust and burning wood fragments. The scouring heat singed the hair off my arms as it touched my skin.

It was Archer. He held Rin in his arms, panting from exertion and the look of pure embroiled rage graced his face. I had never seen anything like this before. He put her down, barely conscious and able to stand. He opened his mouth to say something.

But I didn't have time to chat and rushed him instead. His and my versions of Kanshou and Bakuya met each other, their magnetic properties drawing themselves together. It was an even fight, neither side able to break through the other's defense. He moved in from my left, hacking at my knee, the expression of hatred never left his face. I dodged, kicking a torrent of hot ash into his eyes.

He blinked, and fought through the pain, but it was enough. I traced hundreds of swords in the air, the prana exploding from my circuits only to be refilled in a heartbeat, and I loosed them at Rin.

Archer rushed to put himself between the rain of blades and his Master. He cast Rho Aias, the legendary shield of the Trojan war. Its seven petals held up against the barrage easily.

I kept up the offensive and threw more swords at the problem.

Archer kept his focus.

This has gone on too long, I thought. I rushed around him, ceasing the barrage as soon as he dropped the shield. It was a risk, but he guessed that I would not be willing to kill myself to get at him. Archer jumped between me and Rin again, countering my attack. We locked blades and held each other at an impasse for a second.

He was getting weaker, his nose flared as he rushed his breaths.

I head-butted him in the nose.

His head kicked back upon impact, and he loosened his grip on his swords.

I slammed my heel in the side of his knee and took a big slash across his chest. Blood splatters flew off the blackened edge of Kanshou as it rended through his armor.

"Archer, get back!" Rin screamed just I was about to remove his head from his neck.

Archer disappeared before the final blow and returned into a spiritual form.

"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't matter.  
Rin stood on her own two feet as best she could, leaning against a wooden chair that had survived the explosion for support. She held up a pair of blue and green jewels, defiant to the end. I will make this quick.

"HA HA, good work, Rider!" it said.

No.

I snuck a peek behind me.

Shinji stood amongst the rubble holding the Book of False Attendant, a lustful look in his eye. He had managed to clear three kilometers in five minutes on a bike, he was in tremendous shape I gave him that. "Don't kill her just yet," he said as he walked up to her.

I grit my teeth, I promised myself I would make this quick. But then again, I promised myself a lot of things.

"How does it feel be beaten, Tohsaka," Shinji cackled as he stood within an inch of her face.

Rin, for her part, took none of it, and punched him in the nuts.

I actually laughed for once.

"You bitch," Shinji cried, clutching himself in pain. "Rider, kill her!"

Rin followed up by beating him into the ground.  
"Trace on."

The ground around me exploded again. Archer was back. He materialized directly behind Shinji, exhausted and still bleeding, poised to strike him down as a barrage of swords formed an exploding shield wall around them.

I smiled, it was the perfect opportunity.

"Rider," Shinji screamed as he wet himself, "save me!"  
Shit.

I fought the spell, it was a weak pull from a fake command seal. I wanted to defy the urge to run through the rain of steel. Archer had placed himself in a great position, in a second he would run Shinji through, maybe spilling his entrails all over the ground as he writhed and begged for mercy. He kept up an impenetrable defense, draining as much mana as possible to prevent me from crossing the distance.

It would kill me.

But, I couldn't resist it. I had spent too much energy fighting Sakura's two command spells to ignore it. Archer's arm was half an inch away from his face.

Goddamnit.

I stepped into the barrage, swords and spears pierced through my limbs and tore at my flesh. I broke into a run. The pain was nothing; it was only physical. It was nothing compared to a lifetime of torment. The gravel beneath my boots cracked as I pushed through. Five meters shrunk to two, and two shrunk to one. Another sword ran through my shoulder.

My arm stretched out, parrying Archer's attack.

He struck down again.

I held up Kanshou and Bakuya to block.

Archer smirked, he knew I was too weak to fight back.

My arms bulged, the muscle fibers tearing off the bone as I fought to keep my weapons still. I grit my teeth. My grip tightened. Every fiber of my being shook. The blade stopped. From my success emerged failure. Shinji was still alive.

Fuck.

I grabbed him by the scrape of neck and ran back through the storm of swords. It let up as I increased the distance, Archer had expended too much prana to keep it up once he had lost his prey. As Archer and Rin shrunk from my view I could see him carrying her off towards my house amidst the klaxons of rumbling fire engines. I looked down at Shinji. He was still alive, unfortunately.

The roads disappeared and the trees became larger as we left the western district. We approached the edge of the city and entered the woods, a safe distance from the battlefield.

I dropped Shinji on his ass, and pulled out the remaining swords still protruding from my body. My master was keeping me awash with prana, so I wasn't in danger of running out. But my injuries were severe and it hurt to move. Blood poured out from the holes in my trench coat, painting it an even layer of red.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, and pulled out the last blade, a gladius used to assassinate Julius Caesar. It clattered onto the ground and disappeared.

Shinji laid in the fetal position, clutching at his knees, motionless and trembling like an idiot.

I grit my teeth.

I will kill him for this.


	16. Archer II

Archer II

The fire left nothing in its desolate wake. As I stared into the cold dead eyes of Rider, the anger in my blood raged to a simmering boil. I pressed against his blades with all my power and hatred. The wounds burnt from the flames, and every fiber ached for mercy, but I still pressed on.

He was anathema to me. Tears ran down his face as he fought, as he tried to kill Rin. I had sensed the broken phantasm too late and was barely able to bring up Rho Aias in time to prevent it from killing us. The house was leveled, and the flames grew bolder as time went on. As I stood amidst the ruins I couldn't help but feel this deep uncontrollable resentment when I saw him.

Rider stood in the center of the flames, tears streaming from his eyes as he convinced himself in his actions. His false convictions held so dearly to him that he believed his own lies. He represented everything that was wrong with me.

If looking at Saber was like seeing my own reflection, looking into Rider was like staring into a funhouse mirror. It's image cracked and twisted beyond all recognition. A childlike ideal born of naievety shaped and molded into a monster that has lost sight of itself.

I wanted to kill him right there, and turn the wreckage of Rin's home into his funeral pyre. But I was weak, and my resolve faltered. The blade stopped just short of cleaving Shinji's face in half.

Exploiting the brief window of opportunity, Rider grabbed his Master and escaped through the hell-storm of swords. I had burnt the candle at both ends to keep it up, severely depleting my prana reserves. But as he escaped into the woodline I dropped it, unable to sustain myself. At the least I was able to wound him.

I grabbed Rin and carried her in my arms, escaping from the inferno before the police arrived. We took off in a random direction, trying to get as far away from the battlefield as possible. She struggled to remain lucid, her eyes fluttered as she faded in and out of consciousness. It had been too much for her, the destruction of her home, the battle, it wore on her so much she was unable to hide it.

I could see it. Rider carried on his ideals to the bitter end, and in the end he found nothing but emptiness. And Yet he still fought. There was nothing for him, but a cold empty husk of man, not even his ideals left to betray him.

Was I the same?

Of course I was.

"Archer," Rin muttered between breaths. Her chest rose and fell with labored movement. "Who are you?"  
My name is Emiya Shirou, I thought, a Counter Guardian of Alaya. I know what I am, but not who. "I don't remember, Rin."  
"Don't lie to me Archer, I can see it." She shook her head, anger in her voice.

I focused on the road, running through the darkness. The sun had set and the only source of illumination the pale yellow streetlights. Nothing was on the road and I felt alone as I ran.

"The way you looked at Rider," she coughed. "Saber too. You know them."

"I can't..." I didn't want to say. How would she react? No, I couldn't tell her, it was a path I must walk alone.

Alone.

On the hill of swords.

The image hit me in the face like a bullet. It was a lifetime ago. I was alone. I was always alone. No matter how many I saved, or killed, it was the same. I was betrayed by those I had helped. In the end there was nothing left for me but my ideals. And they betrayed me too.

"Archer, you're not alone," Rin said. In her weakened state the facade dropped, she was not playing the act of the ruthless magus. She was just a friend right now. "I saw," she said before falling unconscious.

The dream cycle. The connection between Master and Servant. She must have seen something. It didn't matter how much I tried to hide it, she would find out eventually.

I stopped at the end of the block, Rin still held firmly in my arms. My home stood in the distance. Why had I come here? I simply ran off in a random direction, no thoughts or plan, and yet here I am. I looked down at Rin, she was out cold, a trickle of blood ran down her face. It was the best option we had. It was the only option.

I sighed, perhaps there was more of my younger self in me than I thought.


	17. Rider III

Rider III

"Come here you little bitch!"

Shinji forced her down onto the bed. The look of lust on his face overcome only with rage. He grasped at her top, and in one swift motioned tore it down the seams. The sting of defeat was fresh on his mind and Shinji took it out at the one thing incapable of fighting back.

"Stop!" Sakura cried, clutching at the shredded remains in vain.

My blood boiled. The vision of the mansion burning before my eyes returned to the forefront. Prana surged through my arms as I held them up. I wanted to strike the bastard down. Strangle the life force from his very body. Split his knees in half and separate every vertebrae in his spine.

"Please," she cried again, "he can't... he can't see me like this."

Shinji slapped her across the face. "Do you think he even wants to see you?" He held her down, palm over her face. A sadistic grin spreading from cheek to cheek.

"Stop," she said, before she ceased resisting.

"Ahahahaha!" he laughed. "As expected from a slut like you!" He turned towards me, oblivious to my rage. "Rider," he said, "would like a turn? I'll even let you go first."

That was it. I'm at my limit. Fuck the command spells. I lunged at him, fire burning in my very soul. Swords, hundred of them, thousands of them flashed before my eyes. What will cause the most pain? What will draw out his death the most? A short tanto found its way into my hands. Perfect for disembowelment.

Time slowed for an instant as I drew within an inch of him. Shinji's jaw dropped. His head darted back and his eyes shot wide in shock. Tiny droplets of sweat welled at his brow. His arms moved on reflex, reaching for the book. Too slow. He would not have time to bring up the Book of False Attendant. He would not have time to fight back. He would not have time to hurt her. It was my-

FUCK.

The blade stopped short, an impenetrable wall centimeters from his gut. My hands shook, the grip so tight the blood vessels in my arm burst. The command spells were still in effect. I grit my teeth, trying to defy them. With all my rage I pushed! I put my shoulder into it! I pushed with my legs! I pushed with my soul! My heart pounded against my chest like a jackhammer. Blood coursed through my veins like sandpaper.

"AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I screamed. JUST ONE MORE INCH! JUST ONE MORE INCH! JUST ONE MORE INCH! I CRIED.

Blood streamed down my face. Diluted by tears, a red haze distorted my vision. Just one... more... inch.

Shinji stood back, the realization dawned on him. His jaw rose, coming back into contact with the rest of his skull. His lips stretched upwards, beginning to curl. In his eyes, I could see it. The fear was gone. Instead replaced by the false impression of his own invincibility. I failed. The tanto disappeared back into ether as I fell to my knees. I hung my head in shame.

"You love her don't you?" Shinji spoke in a rare moment of insight. He chuckled, a small humorous tone in his voice. It grew louder, the staccato noises merged into one continuous sound. He laughed vicariously for the world to hear. His throat scratched as he forced the air out of his mouth, and his stomach shook at the sight of me. He only stopped when he ran out of breath.

"Rider..." Sakura turned her head to look at me. Her purple eyes killed me. For a moment they look dead, resigned to her fate, but then I saw it. A tiny tint of hope in the far reaches of her soul. It was buried, long forgotten. Somewhere in there, she recognized me. And it only hurt even more.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. I made the wrong choice. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have...

"You like what you see, don't you?" Shinji forced her up, Sakura's arms hung limp at her side. "Oh, Rider, what should I do? What should I do to punish you?"

Only my eyes moved, the rest of my body useless. I looked up at him from the ground. My voice trembled, my arms shook. "F-f-fuck," I forced the guttural sounds through my throat, "you."

Shinji laughed. "Good! That's what I want to see."

I looked back at Sakura. She stopped moving, averting her gaze from me.

"I know," he said, pure malice on his face. "why don't I..." he licked his lips. His breathing grew shallower as drool trickled from his mouth. "Why don't I make you watch?"

No. Anything, but that.

I dove for the Book of False Attendant at the foot of the bed. If I can't kill him I should be able to destroy the book! At the very least I should be able to! Please. GOD. ANYTHING!

But I was too slow.

Shinji pulled the book from my grasp as I slammed into the wall. He held it to his chest and stood up straight, like a lord ready to give out his sentence. His lips moved, but I didn't hear what he said. I didn't want to hear it.

My body moved on its own. I grabbed the bedpost, and pulled myself up. I stood at the foot of the bed, eyes centered on Sakura's lying form.

Shinji placed the book by the window. He took one glance at me before moving onto the bed. He forced his tongue down her mouth as she squirmed. But then all resistance died and she went along with it. She began to enjoy it. She forgot all about the pain and misery and lost herself in lust.

I wanted to looked away. But could not. I wanted to close my eyes. But could not. I wanted to cry. But could not. Not even the blurred vision of blood stained tears could save me.

I am in Hell.


	18. Interlude III

Interlude III

The plan had gone sideways. Gunfire pounded our flanks as we attempted to exfiltrate from the city. It was a simple mission, go in, extract the Prime Minister, and get out. No one said anything about a Dead Apostle, sarin gas, and the Burial Agency. Score one for military intelligence.

Beirut died as the government forces, rebel forces, and the ghouls tore each other apart; in the latter case literally. Smoke hung over the city like an overcast, the blackness blanking the Earth as the fires from the bombings burnt through the heart of the city.

I took cover in the wreckage of a blackened supermarket, incoming rounds shattering the windows before embedding themselves into the cereal aisle. Stray cheerios crunched into dust as I ran towards the back room.

"We are leaving!" screamed Captain Smith, Commanding Officer of the Paranormal Intelligence Section for Counter-Intelligence, Espionage, and Sabotage (PISCES). I was assigned to it in partnership with the Mage's Circle, though officially I was just a freelancer. He kicked out the back door into the supermarket's loading docks, counting out the number of every surviving soldier left in the unit. "Eight, Nine... you too, Hawkeye!"

I hated that nickname, but in the heat of the moment I wasn't going to voice my displeasure. Dust flew through the fatal funnel of the door as the sound of a helicopter's rotors rang throughout the building. It was our method of extraction, and our only way out. But as I ran towards the door I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

A small boy, no older than eight, holding himself against the wooden stands of produce at the far end of the building. My options were simple. I could run to the boy, potentially ruining my chances of escape and endangering the mission. I didn't know him, I didn't know how it would affect me or if his life would even matter. I didn't know if I would be able to bring him back to the helo on time. Or I could escape with my life.

It was never really a choice.

You can't save everyone, I know that. It was a fruitless ideal to cling to. But it was a beautiful ideal nonetheless. I clung to it, and fought for it. I accepted that it was flawed and that the path was rough, but it gave me something to live for.

I hooked left, ignoring the astonished look on Captain Smith's face as he realized what I was planning on doing. The boy was was at the other side of supermarket, and so I put all of my power into my legs. The gunfire diverted its attention to me, the bullets shattered as they ricocheting off of the tile. A few stray round hit me in my plate carrier, but I shrugged them off. I never needed it really, simply plausible deniability to explain away Avalon's ability to heal my wounds.

"Are you okay?" I said to the boy, sliding besides him like the World Series depended on it.

He didn't respond, clutching his ears with his hands, trying to shut out the noise. I looked him in the eyes and felt his skin, clammy, cold. He was in shock.

I grabbed him, holding him tight as I lifted him off the ground and ran back towards the back door. The gunfire had dropped, the sounds of AKs and PKMs replaced by the terrible moans of the Ghouls. Amidst the shooting I could hear the screams and cries of desperation as men and women all around me met their gruesome ends. It was an unwelcomed change, but it did allow me to escape the supermarket without attracting attention.

I found myself in the center of the loading dock alone, leaning up against a ramp for cover. The PISCES Soldiers were gone, history or not, Captain Smith held the lives of his men as more important than that of a random mercenary. The sound of a UH-60 Blackhawk grew quieter as it flew off in the distance. I was stranded in the heart of the city. My watch read 17:45, the hammer would fall any minute.

A shrill shriek reverberated throughout the air. My eyesight homed in on the source, hundreds of shells flew overhead. I read the text written on the side of the spinning ordinance: "Freedom Rings" it said. I laughed. It was a weak laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. They trailed through the air and curved back down towards the Earth.

I looked down at the boy, he shook as he stared back at me. His heartbeat quickened as the shells impacted the ground, sending screaming fragments of shrapnel in every direction. The buildings around us collapsed, rumbling into the ground as chunks blew out of them. And yet the shriek of incoming shells grew bolder and bolder. They planned on leveling the city. The situation was lost, and all that was left to do was to contain the outbreak by any means possible.

"It's going to be alright," I said to him as he clutched onto me for dear life. I would not let him die. I had to save at least one person from this place. I leaned my head back, staring directly at the white phosphorous shells inbound on my position. I flashed a weak smile. "Showtime."

Prana surged through my circuits as as I cast Rho Aias, it's seven petals opening just as the incoming ordnance exploded overhead. It held firm above me, shielding us from the raining death.

Unfortunately I couldn't say the same for Beirut. The shells poured hellfire over the proverbial Sodom and Gomorrah. The city burned around us, the screams and cries for salvation echoed between the narrow streets and corridors. I shook my head, it wasn't a magical fire, and yet, it was even worse.

I dropped Rho Aias, using my reinforced legs to carry us out of the city. The fire continued to burn around us as I ran past the dying. Their skin melted off as they tried to move, and their lungs fried as they sought to breath the burning air. Only the ghouls were unaffected by the pain, their bodies alight and their flesh dripping off the bone as they shuffled to find their next victims. It was like running through hell.

The sun began to set behind the Mediterranean as I escaped the city. Two shadows cast from me: one going backwards, shielded from the setting sun; the second grew out from the dying city behind me. The heat burned so brightly that I could see its reflection from the sea in front of me.

I stopped on the beach at the edge of the water, we were a safe distance from the city, and so I put the boy down amidst the crashing waves. He smiled as he sat in the sand, the dawning realization of his salvation finally registered in his mind. He held up a pack of cigarettes, as if to thank me. It was only then did I notice the sign around his chest: "Viceroy: $2 per pack" it read. It was innocent, a simple gesture of a boy who didn't know any better.

In his eyes was the glint of happiness I had never seen before, accentuated by his oversized front teeth. It filled me with joy. I took the cigarettes to show my gratitude, it would be rude otherwise, and briefly wondered if Avalon could cure cancer. The boy held up a lighter, beckoning me to take that as well.

What the heck, I thought, and lit up.

A feeling of calm relaxation took over me as I inhaled. The crisp flavor of tobacco stained the base of my tongue. It was good, why hadn't I started sooner? I patted the kid on the head, thanking him for the brief respite.

But a hero's work is never done.

I turned back to the inferno, Beirut burned so brightly that it blocked out the stars. A pair of F/A-18 Super Hornets flew overhead at supersonic speeds, ready to drop their payload. The night sky was blanketed by the combined Air Forces of the region, ready to wipe the city off the face of the map. Once again my choices were clear. If I stayed here on this beach I would live, if I ran back I would probably die.

It was never really a decision.

Prana surged through my circuits, and I ran as fast as I could back into the Hell from which I escaped.


	19. Caster II

Caster II

I never wanted any of this! screamed the lingering voice in the back of my mind. It was a small vestige of doubt, the last resistance of...

It was who I am! The world shook as my mind tried to recompile itself. Thousands of questions rushed through my head, bouncing around in my skull like rocks in a clam-shell. It was not a mistake, I made the right decision.

My arm ached, a jolt of pain rushed through me from the stub at my left shoulder. I leaned against the shelf, trying to support myself as my legs rebelled against me. STOP IT! I screamed. The worn bandages, blood stained and black with mud needed to be tightened. Yes. Dull the pain. I grabbed them with my only hand and wound them around my wrists. I pulled.

And pulled and pulled and pulled.

Nothing. The pain remained constant, a bitter reminder of my sins. It would always linger there, mocking me, whispering me my ear. I had gotten so used to it that sometimes I would forget it was there. But always, always, like a lost dog, it would return to its owner when he least expected it.

Why?

You know why.

Why?

The pain remained as the spinning began to slow and my vision grew clearer. Yes, I could see it, the image of the grail seared into my retinas. Standing in the background following me no matter where it went. I tried to run away from it, I tried to escape, it was always there. Another reminder.

You can't escape your sins.

"ARRRGH" I screamed as I smashed my other hand against the wall of the basement. Blood trickled down my knuckles, a perfect imprint of my fist imbedded itself in the yellow wallpaper. My breathing slowed, and I tried to reassert myself. The emotions began to ebb, and the fog that polluted my mind began to lift. Yet the voice remained.

You are not fooling yourself, it said.

Where was I? I ignored it. A hospital, it was the Fifth Holy Grail war, and I was summoned as Servant Caster. I am Emiya Shirou, and I plan on winning this war. There was only one way to repay my sins.

You're wrong.

I clutched my forehead, a surge of pain washing over me. My body shook and ached, I ignored it. I returned my attention to the war. The patients were a necessary sacrifice, I needed the mana to survive.

You're wrong.

Fine, I screamed, I need it to win.

You're wrong.

"Argh!" I grit my teeth and tried to shut out the voice again. I admit that I am harvesting mana from the patients of the hospital. But this is all necessary. My foolish Master is not a mage, and thus is incapable of giving me the necessary mana to fight. The contract can keep me alive, and yes I could lay low without ever needing to use any mana, but this is the only way to win. Yes, this is the only way to win.

Ignore it, another voice said. It was my voice, yes, it was mine.

I took a deep breath, the other voice was gone. Calm yourself and stay the course. My face drooped and my breathing slowed to a crawl. Yes, I can do this.

"Caster," my Master said as he stepped out of the elevator, his shirt stained with sweat and smattered with doughnut crumbs. "I know what we can do next!"

I grit my teeth, almost begging for the voices to return. They made for better company. My foolish Master had figured out the usage of the command spells, and first one wasted on larceny. Magecraft, the power to shape the world around us, reduced to petty thievery in the hands of an obese suit wrapped around a sack of meat.

"Master," I said, hiding the torment of my inner mind. "I need to save my mana reserve in case we are discovered."

He rolled his eyes, clutching at the rolls of fat around his waist. "Don't play smart with me, you Bastard. I'm more intelligent than you think."

I highly doubt it.

"You just want to shunt me off in the background until this whole thingamajig blows over, and then you'll conveniently off me at the last second."

I blinked. Perhaps he was right. I should kill him right now...

The pain in my arm returned.

I clutched at the stub, purely out of reflex despite the futility of it. It was a sign of something, but what I don't know. Not kill my Master? Why should I not kill him. He's nothing, but a fat, lying piece of...

The pain flared again, surging even stronger than before.

"Very well, Master," I said, "perhaps I should show you a little bit of my power to show my loyalty."

He nodded, flashing his crooked coffee stained teeth.

Hanging off the edge of my belt was a twisted grey metal urn. In it carried to ashes of the world. It was both a symbolic gesture and the literal resting place for the billions of souls I once knew. As I was the only one left it was up to me to hold the funeral. I took it from my belt and set it on the coffee table underneath the single lamp with extra care.

My Master looked at it with disappointment, but did not say anything. Perhaps he expected a rabbit to pop out of it or something.

It let out a tiny squeak as I twisted the cap off. The piles of ash laid flushed with the top of the urn. With my fingers, I took a tiny pinch of it. Prana coursed through my circuits, flowing down the reaches of my arms like a gentle stream.

The prana embedded itself into the little specks of ash as I blew them throughout the room. They began to form and take shape. Tiny little specks slowly grew in size and mass as I applied more mana into it. They grew and grew, until they matched myself in height. A formless shadow with false appendages attempting to mimic the shape of a human, but failing at it. A dozen of them stood in the basement, the moonlight bathing them through the tiny windows that graced the ceiling.

I sighed as I saw them. They were in pain, the echoing screams of souls long gone. Soon I would join them. I waved my hand, beckoning them to go out into the night. They would be free. One of them glanced back at me, looking at me through the empty space where its face should be. We held each other's "gaze" for a but a second, before it joined the others and faded through the walls and into the streets. Find the other Servants, I told them. And they would obey.

"What..." my Master had collapsed onto his back and clutched at his chest. I could not tell whether he his ailment was from shock, or the fact that he never took care of himself. "What was that?"

I hung my head, refusing to answer him. I held up my hand feeling a little bit of prana flowing into it. A small figure materialized in the palm of my hand. Grey and crude, but of distinct shape. Saber, Taiga, Rin, all of them.

You cannot escape your sins, cried the voice in my head.


	20. Shirou V

Shirou V

"Shirou, you're an idiot if you believe I'll let you go out on your own," Saber said.

The cool evening air lapped at my hair as I closed the door behind me.

"Call me an idiot then, because I want you staying behind looking after Tohsaka. We haven't gotten the full story on what happened yet, but Rider could come back to try and finish the job."

Archer had arrived hours earlier shouldering an injured Tohsaka, showing every sign of having just barely escaped with their lives. Tohsaka passed out shortly after formally agreeing to a temporary alliance and I let Archer carry her to one the spare bedrooms.

The details were sparse. Archer wasn't in a talking mood. However, I got the gist of what had happened.

Shinji was the Master of Rider in this war. Not only that, but he had tried to ambush Tohsaka and destroyed the Tohsaka mansion. When I pressed Archer for more information about Rider, however, he clammed up.

"Realize, if you will Shirou, that even unconscious Tohsaka is a better Master than you are."

I glared at my Servant.

"I mean no disrespect of course. I am simply making the observation that she is still actively providing prana to Archer. Meaning of course that he will recover even before I do."

He put his hands on his hips and looked at me stubbornly.

"In short, I am better suited to making sure that you don't end up getting _yourself_ killed while out on patrol. Archer will be able to handle any Servant and the boundary field should give them enough warning to prepare themselves."

I frowned.

I knew that what Saber was saying was right, but it still bothered me.

"What if I use a command seal to order you?" I said.

"Then you are even more of an idiot than I could have ever imagined," he said. "You would probably die while out on patrol. Though I am in no shape to take on a Servant of, say, Berserker's caliber, I am excellent at surviving suicidal situations and escaping with my life."

He sighed.

"What I mean to say, Master, is that you can't always fight all your battles. Sometimes you have to run. I want to escort you not so that I can fight alongside you, but rather so that I can ensure your escape."

I gave up. There was no way I could convince Saber to stay behind without using a command seal. It was just a failed attempt to strong-arm him into going along with it anyway.

"Glad to see that you see it my way," he said. "That being said, what do you intend for this patrol?"

I told him about two incidents that were going on in Fuyuki City. One was the gas leak, definitely a cover story for the destruction left behind after a battle between two Servants. The other, though just a rumor, had me concerned. Fuji-nee had mentioned disappearances happening during the evenings throughout the city.

It was possible this was some serial kidnapping, but it was also likely this was related to the Grail War. I couldn't leave it up to chance. If I could do something to stop the disappearances, then that was what I was going to do.

"I agree. It sounds like this could be the work of a Servant," he frowned, "and really, you were going to investigate this without me? Sometimes I wonder about you, Shirou."

I wanted to protect others. If I could have Saber protect Tohsaka, I would do it in a heartbeat. Especially if, at the same time, I could stop these disappearances on my own. It was the natural course. Right?

The neighborhood was quiet. We'd not made it far into our patrol of Miyama Town before Saber pointed out the obvious. It was only eight in the evening. Where were all the people? Certainly, lights shone from windows and their occupants could be seen meandering about in the comforts of their own home, but what about outside? No strollers. No animals. No cars. Not even the sound of the cicadas. Absolute silence.

I could feel the sense of foreboding press on me. This was no groundless rumor.

"Keep on guard, Shirou," rang Saber's voice.

My footsteps echoed through the empty streets. A chill ran down my spine. This wasn't normal.

A panicked shriek cut through the night. It came from nearby!

I kicked into action; my body shrugging off the lingering numbness from my training session with Saber earlier on in the day.

Where are you? Where did that scream come from?

A sound like pained breathing emitted from an alley.

There!

Darkness.

I could see the pained face of a woman sinking into a dark corner of the alley, a sick gurgling sound escaping her throat.

"Saber!" I cried.

My Servant appeared from the ether in front of me, already dashing into action.

But then he stopped and looked around uncertainly.

"What are you doing!?" I yelled. "Help her!"

Saber slowly turned to face me.

"Now's your chance to show me if you learned anything," he said.

What? What was he talking about? He had to save that women from whatever was happening to her! This was no time for jokes!

"Shirou, look around. We're not alone."

I followed his gaze.

Wispy, dark figures sat perched on the high walls of the alley all around us. Dark, spindly limbs held them to the stonework. One of them cocked its head at me, staring with the empty black void where its face should be.

Another of the shadowy figures stood upright, its face twisted and contorted a distorted imitation of a mouth, but it kept growing, almost overtaking its head in a line of jagged faux teeth. It opened its black maw and let out a wail like the wind in a sandstorm.

Movement. The figures descended on us.

Saber threw Kanshou and Bakuya at a pair of the falling creatures, causing them to erupt in an explosion of gray-black ash.

The twin swords scythed through the air, clearing the top of the alleyway walls and disappeared in a flash of light.

Saber was ready, holding another pair of his favored weapons.

The wail grew in loudness, pervading the formerly quiet night with its otherworldly sound.

Several of the ashen creatures twisted in shape, growing huge, elongated arms that they used to change the angle of their descent. They fell all around Saber, some on top of him.

Yet, that wasn't my concern.

My eyes were focused on the three that had broken from the pack and charged at me.

I needed a weapon.

I slowed my breathing, remembering the lessons Saber had beat into my body this afternoon.

The sounds of Saber's fight against the ashen creatures faded, the unnatural howls and screeches faded, even the wind faded. All I could hear was the thumping of my own heart.

I didn't need to create a new magical circuit every time I used magic. The magical circuits were always in me, just unused, dormant.

I imagined a switch in my head. I only needed to flip it, to flood my circuits with prana and invoke my magecraft.

"Trace on."

My body burned. Fire shot through every nerve as I recreated the first thing that came to mind.

Saber's twin swords; Kanshou and Bakuya.

Their image came naturally, their composition, their history. All of it flooded into my mind. I could understand them, grasp them at a fundamental level.

It was like they were meant for my hands.

My breath steamed in the night air as I exhaled, black and white swords identical to those that Saber wielded grasped firmly in my hands.

One of the shadowy things' limbs bulged mid-stride, exploding in a cloud of dust as it propelled itself over my head and to the end of the alleyway.

I turned, trying to throw Kanshou like Saber had. It was trying to escape. I wasn't going to let it.

A forceful pull yanked my arm back, almost twisting it out of its socket.

I yelped in surprise.

A long loop of black had wound itself around my left arm, its touch dry and hot.

It pulled me back, reeling me towards the two creatures that had stayed behind. Bakuya moved into action, swinging to sever the appendage.

The gleaming, white blade passed harmlessly through.

My eyes shot wide.

As if angered by my attempt to free myself the creature pulling me back shrieked. Its appendage tighten around my arm and then the world blurred.

My side collided with the closed, metal shutter of a loading dock. The whiplash forcing my head into the cold surface with a thwack.

Blood trickled down my face from the fresh wound as I was dragged through wooden pallets and discarded plastic bags like the carcass of some dying animal.

The ground cracked beneath one of the creatures as it pounced at me like a feral cat, long, sharp protrusion extending from its body like meat hooks.

I don't want to die!

My arms moved on their own as if guided by Kanshou and Bakuya themselves.

Bakuya sliced through the cold cement, embedding itself and giving me some handhold to stop and maneuver myself against the hold of the appendage still coiled along my left arm.

Almost as if frustrated it yanked harder, pulling me upright and ripping Bakuya out along with me.

I sliced Bakuya through the air as I fell forward in a clumsy tumble, surprising the creature in the air as the white, wavy surfaced blade ripped full forced through its head and bisected it straight through the other side.

I coughed as it dissipated in a shower of choking powder that clung to my skin and clothes.

The remaining creature howled and launched two more spiked appendages that arced through the air. It was aiming to skewer me as it dragged my face first towards my impending death, skinning the bottom of my chin as I was cruelly scraped against the ground.

Shit!

I closed my eyes and flinched away as the dark skewers fell towards me.

A warm feeling washed over my body and I found it hard to breathe. My arm thud against the ground as the resistance keeping it angled vanished.

I slowly opened my right eye and was met with a stinging sensation.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound of boots against concrete grew closer.

I felt myself pulled to my feet as I was patted down.

"Saber?" I said.

"It would be a fair bet," he said. His hand brushed my face. "This shit is all over you. You look like a coal miner."

My eyes opened.

Saber was in front of me. Cut and bleeding in a few places, but no worse for wear. Though he had a bandage on his face.

"I thought you could heal superficial wounds?" I said as I gestured towards it.

"Old habit," he said as he pulled another bandage from a pouch on his side, "hold still, you're bleeding from your forehead."

The wound stung as he cleaned and dressed it.

"What were those?" I said.

Saber stopped to consider my question.

"Familiars I would say. Chances are we just announced our presence to Caster."

"I couldn't stop one of them from getting away," I murmured.

"Definitely announced our presence then."

I sighed.

"Guess I could only really handle one of them."

"Don't short-sell yourself. Considering you'd only just started training a few hours ago you did a decent job," he smiled, "though you'll probably want to take a bath when we get back home."

I chuckled.

"Yeah, I've got all this dust and dirt on me."

"It's not dust and dirt," he said. Saber was silent for a moment as if he mulled over what to say. "It's ash."

My mind flashed back to a large fire that had once engulfed a part of the city. A fire that had both birthed Emiya Shirou and robbed so many others of their lives. A woman's face, writhing in agony came to mind.

"Saber… what happened to the woman?" I said.

"Gone," he said.

I lifted the two swords that I had managed to trace, my grip on their handles having never wavered once during my fight with Caster's familiars. My knuckles turned white as I tightened my hold in frustration.

"We'll stop Caster. This can't be allowed to continue," I said.

Saber turned to look at where the woman had been when we had first arrived. His eyes lingered for a time as if he was unsure of something before an explosion came from the bridge.

We stared at each other for a moment before taking off it that direction.


	21. Rider IV

Rider IV

I needed to get away from that house. Any longer I would have burnt it down in a fit of rage. And nothing would've stopped me, no command spells or foul sorcery could've done it. So I ran away like the coward I was.

The city lights greeted me from my perch atop the highest arch of Fuyuki city's iconic red bridge. It was a wretched place where nothing good ever happened. And from there I watched the vast neighborhoods slumber in peaceful ignorance of the war and death in its midst, unaware of the events that took place during the previous war. It was the perfect place for me to observe the happenstances of the city.

The streets were empty and deserted, despite the night's youth. Even the tiniest neighborhoods bustled with activities this early. Small black wisps floated off in the distance, but I knew they weren't the disturbance. Something darker and more sinister lurked the shadows of Fuyuki city.

"Onii-chan." My thoughts were interrupted by the cry of a small child. I turned towards the source of the voice and froze.

Illya waved from the pedestrian walkway of the bridge. She smiled in a cheerful manner, fully embracing the facade she projected for the world around her. But I saw through it. Where was Berserker? She wouldn't travel anywhere at night without him in tow, what was she playing at? I remembered the conversations we had in the park a lifetime ago. How young and naive I was. I wasn't going to let it happen again. The plan was the same: end the war as quickly as possible.

"Play with me, Onii-chan," she chirped, seemingly unaware of the malicious thoughts of my mind.

I took the risk, the payoff was worth the danger. I lept off the arch and plummeted towards her. My trench coat flapped in the wind with the falling grace. Illya's smile vanished as I traced Kanshou and Bakuya, and aimed straight for her skinny pale neck.

She threw up some sort of magical shield. It protected her as I sent her flying backwards and into the motorized portion of the bridge. It didn't kill her, but I would fix that soon enough. I stepped over to her as she laid on the ground. Her eyes flashed wide open as she screamed. "Berserker!"

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅!" A roar erupted across throughout the night.

I flinched, and jumped to my left without fully registering my actions. All I felt was danger, and the desperate need to get the hell out of this place.

A massive black and blue blade carved up the air where I once was, and the form for a monstrous servant materialized in front of me. It cracked and rattled as it moved, and watched me with amber eyes from a gap between its silvered coif and helm. I recognized those eyes immediately. Exactly like Archer, this was another path I had chosen.

He lifted his sword, a mutated monstrosity as long as he was tall, and with Excalibur as its base. In a blurring flash it appeared in front of me, ready to strike. I grit my teeth and leaped to my right. I crashed through a metal lamppost just as the steel sliced up the ground. I rolled with it, sending the pole falling and shattering the light against the concrete. But before I could move Berserker was on me again.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅!" it roared.

I lunged forward on the offensive, hoping to get a few marks of my own in. Fiery sparks leapt from the edge of Bakuya as it screeched across the blue marbled steel of Berserker's armor. I tried again, slashing Kanshou into a thin spot beneath its breastplate. It bit deep, but as I tried to pull the sword across it stopped. I gave it a tug, nothing, it was stuck.

Berserker swung down again, and I let go of my sword to dodge the fatal blow. It sent chunks of asphalt and concrete flying as it slammed into the ground. I managed to roll away, searching for Illya. She was standing now, crisp orange lines of unfiltered mana coursing across her body. Her circuits lit with a fiery anger that blaze across the pockmarked bridge. She stared at me with the same malevolence Archer had casted on me earlier that day. Between her and Berserker, I had lost.

The element of surprise slipped from my pale white fingertips to embrace the enemy. I swung around, feeling the gust of wind fluttering away my coat as I fled towards the Miyama town. But the twirling black blade followed in my wake.

It spun through the air and carved up an arcing path like a steel boomerang. I slid on my heels to come to a complete stop where the concrete caved open.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅!" Berserker roared once more and the thumping vibrations of the bridge ran up my bones. A cold snap gusted in from my right. A drop in air pressure. I rolled backwards to avoid becoming too acquainted with the moonlit blade of Berserker's. I slammed against against the pedestrian blockage and sought another way out.

A pair of lights flashed in the distance, it stood several feet off the ground and I recognized the body of a 1998 KIA Optima. That was it. A flash of light appeared in the corner of my vision. I rolled away and sprinted towards the car. The clatter of crumbling rubble came from behind me.

The driver slowed his vehicle as I approached. I jumped onto the hood of his car and he screeched to a stop. He stared at me with widened eyes of fear and flinched only when I threw my fist through the shattering windows. "Help!" he screamed as I dragged him out the car. He slammed onto the ground with a thud, and protested my hijacking with indignation.

I traced Bakuya and sliced his blue tie in half. That sent him jabbering off into the night. I slipped into the driver seat and poured prana into the vehicle. Berserker crouched low from the center of the bridge. He brought his sword up to his face and aimed the shining tip where my heart should be.

The vehicle overloaded with prana, far greater than what I could muster with a noble phantasm.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅!" Berserker charged, he crushed his way across the bridge and towards me.

I slammed my foot on the accelerator and welded in place. It accelerated with exponential growth in speed. The red needle shot upwards and upwards. Berserker's glowing gold eyes came into focus as we neared. But I didn't plan on being around for the finale.

I threw open the door and leapt from the moving vehicle. The hard grit of crushed up asphalt slashed up my body as I rolled. The vehicle continued onwards, and Berserker swung his sword to carve it in half. No sooner than when the two pieces of steel and aluminium came into contact did a blinding light wash over me.

I closed my burning eyes and dashed for the edge of the bridge. The fiery breath of a concussive shock wave threw me over the edge and sent me plummeting into the frozen depths below.


	22. Saber III

Saber III

Smoke billowed from the red steel giant that connected Shinto with Miyama. Metal girders lay strewn in a twisted mess around a chasm that glowed hot with fire on its deck. Fuyuki Bridge groaned and shuddered as a girder teetering on the edge finally plummeted into the lapping waters of the Mion River.

I had crossed this bridge more times than I could count in life, even during the course of my own Fifth Grail War. Yet I had never seen it in such a condition. Seeing such a familiar landmark of my home town in such a pitiful state was enough to break my heart.

But this was no time for sentimentality. A ghost from my past had just made an appearance.

The girl I had failed to save: Illyasviel von Einzbern.

And beside her was a tall, lanky, armored form. It struck an imposing sight, its blue enameled silvered armor and dragon motif illuminated by the dancing flames.

Shirou took a few steps forward, unperturbed by the presence of the armored Servant.

"Illya are you alri—"

Illya's hands clutched at the sides of her head, pulling at fistfuls of silvery hair as she let out a scream of anguish.

"Don't come any closer!"

The forcefulness of the girl froze Shirou in his tracks.

"I was stupid to think that the rest of you were like him. You're all garbage, filth," she spat. "You're all like _that_ man."

Shirou was at a loss for words. He had glimpsed the gaps in Illyasviel's façade at the park, but she had dropped all pretenses.

Her blood-red eyes glimmered with ill intent as her body slacked with exhaustion, as though she had accepted some terrible truth.

And across her face crawled a predatory smile.

"Illya I don't know what happened, but I promise we had nothing to do with it." Shirou willed his feet into motion once more, his footsteps like bombshells in the tense standoff.

I materialized in front of Shirou with my favored blades in my hands.

"Shirou I advise against getting any closer."

She was unstable, shaken by whatever epiphany she had grasped. Trying to push our luck now would only provoke her.

A loud grinding drew our attention back to the armored servant, its armored form shuddering into motion like a statue given life.

The Servant was carrying—no, dragging—a large, jagged sword that gouged through the asphalt. I grit my teeth as I comprehended the nature of who the armored Servant was.

Even perverted and malformed I recognized the divine construction and beauty of that blade, one that I thought could only be understood and forged by the fey.

Excalibur, the cherished holy sword of Artoria Pendragon.

"Kill them both, Berserker!"

The armored Servant spasmed as he gave an echoing roar that sent chills down my spine.

"Get out of here!" I pivoted on my feet and grabbed Shirou with the touch grip of my hands. He let out a yelp of surprise, and opened his mouth to protest, before I nd threw him as far as I could back up the street. He sailed through the air before tumbling along the ground and rolling to a stop.

He'll be fine. Shirou Emiya was hardier than he had any right to be.

And at this point in time I was more concerned about myself.

I turned the momentum of the throw into a forward roll just as the ground where I once stood erupted into a shower of asphalt. Specks of debris rained against my face as I scrambled into a defensive posture.

Berserker slouched in a neat crater, cradling its gigantic, ugly broadsword with two gauntleted hands.

He was fast. Deceptively so.

"What? No introductions?" I said. "That's alright, I think I've already figured out who you are."

The metal form of the Servant creaked and rattled as it lifted its head, two ambers eyes shining from a gap between its coif and helm to stare through me.

Another Emiya Shirou that had taken another path.

The ground rumbled as Berserker let out an anguished roar, sparks erupting from his sabatons as he burst towards me. He closed the distance between us in only a single breath.

But I was ready.

This iteration of myself had had the misfortune of being summoned with is mind muddled by the mad enchantment of the Berserker class. The trade-off, of course, was that the physical abilities of the Servant were substantially increased to compensate. However, in his current state he was nothing more than a mad beast.

And I've fought plenty of beasts in my time.

I exhaled, flooding prana throughout my body, reinforcing musculature; bone; and skin. My plate carrier, my clothes, my boots, everything thrummed with magical energy; every advantage I could scrounge would be the difference between life and death.

Berserker's sword screeched through the air to bisect me, the mass of the blade too much even for the mad Servant as he was pulled along with the follow-through.

I twisted out of the way, Bakuya swinging to strike at Berserker's forearm. The cloudy-white blade tore through Berserker's leather vambrace, emerging a brilliant crimson.

The tips of my boots danced across the broken asphalt as I maneuvered myself away from the hulking Servant before it could retaliate; I flashed a smile in satisfaction.

I may be able to do some damage to Berserker before I was forced to retreat.

"What are you doing, Berserker! Hurry up and kill him!" Illyasviel yelled from the pedestrian pathway, having taken shelter there sometime during the fight.

Sorry, Illya, but that won't be happening.

Berserker craned his head towards me, his ruined blue tabard fluttering in a gust of wind.

A low groan echoed out from his arm before shards of metal pierced through the wound that I had given Berserker.

Well, that was new.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!" he roared, his body gripped in the throes of rapid convulsion.

I barely had a moment to set myself before Berserker's armored form filled my field-of-view trying to run me down.

Fast! Way too fast!

I could only weave and dodge as he thrust at me again and again with his cleaver of a sword. But the attacks grew closer and closer, my evasion slower and less fluid.

The force and speed behind his attacks were building and rapidly. Was he reinforcing himself beyond his limits, ripping his body apart at the seams just to kill me?

What a stupid question.

Of course he was. He was Emiya Shirou.

Another slash. This was my chance! I flooded prana into my arm and struck the sword away with Bakuya, trying to shift the momentum of battle back in my favor.

Spinning with the energy, I used Kanshou to carve through Berserker's arm and then ducked under his return swing. I struck again and again, goading Berserker into attacking, then waiting for a moment of opportunity to rend Berserker's armor and bloodying the mad Servant.

I systematically struck at exposed gaps in Berserker's armor in a gambit to disable his ability to fight and move.

But no matter how many wounds I gave, Berserker refused to buckle. Instead the wound would blossom in an eruption of metal from within his armor, turning Berserker into a grotesque figure of jagged edges and dripping blood. The man was as durable as the dragons of lore, possessing a healing factor far and above what Emiya Shirou should have.

Berserker pressed on. His strikes becoming more accurate, more precise. I found myself in a fighting retreat, parrying and dodging more often than I was able to attack.

Bakuya exploded into glistening white shards as I blocked an overhead swing, forcing me to a knee just from the force of the blow alone.

I pushed prana into my legs. I needed to open up space. I needed to—

Berserker's off-hand shot forward, engulfing my face in its grasp.

"What?" I yelped in surprise.

The world around me blurred, wind whistling by my ears as Kanshou was ripped from my grip.

Berserker roared, louder even than the booming of its sabatons as they cratered the ground with each step.

"▂▂▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

White hot pain shot through my back as Berserker forced me through a guardrail and into a metal girder, the metal groaning as it buckled behind me.

My face contorted into a voiceless cry of pain as I felt my bones breaking, tearing through clothing, and skin, and muscle.

My limbs flailed helplessly in the air as again everything blurred, before my vision exploded white as my skull flared with pain. I heard the crunch of stone tiling as Berserker forced my head into the ground again and again, each time the world growing dimmer.

I felt light as I was thrown through the air and into the cold waters of the Mion River. Water filled my lungs as a lifetime of experience kicked into action, my legs and arms kicking and struggling feebly against the river's dark embrace.

My body went numb as the currents drug me against remains of the bridge that had settled against the bottom of the river. I pulled and dragged, struggling to stay conscious until I broke the surface and the cold Fuyuki air licked my face once more.

I coughed up river water and blood as a I crawled against the stonework embankment.

Several ribs broken, a fractured skull, no doubt several ruined vertebrae—to say nothing of any internal injuries. It had only taken but a minute to cause this much damage. Yet, for all the time _I_ had spent on the offensive, I'd nothing to show for it.

"Ahhhhg," I groaned, trying to force myself to stand. My left leg buckled, broken.

No time for a pity party; Berserker was already on the move. And here I was effectively mobility killed.

"Trace on," I said, a veritable armory of legendary swords flashing into existence above me. I mentally apologized to Shirou. This was going to bleed his prana reserves dry, but I had no other recourse.

"I've faced down worse things than you…" I said as I loosed my volley.

Shock. Surprise. Awe. What words could I use to describe the scene in front of me?

Berserker had not faltered even for a moment in the rain of swords. Noble phantasms, the culminations of heroic legends clattered harmlessly against his slab of a sword as he held it across his body like a shield. The sword did not give and Berserker continued his steady advance towards me.

Fucking hell.

I have to get out of here. I need to end this now.

"Trace on," I said.

A large, carbon fiber composite bow appeared in my hand.

A spiral sword appeared in my free hand as if already knowing what I intended to do.

"I am the bone of my sword," I said as I nocked the masterclass weapon, watching it twist in on itself until it was a perfect spiral. I watched the makeshift arrow crackle with energy as I forced more and more prana into it, its body deforming to house the added strain.

"Caladbolg," I said as I invoked the weapon's name.

There was a flash of light as the arrow ripped through the air towards its target, the blade weaving between the unending rain of noble phantasms like a magic bullet hunting for its target.

And again Berserker shocked me.

My volley of swords began to tear into his breastplate as he hefted his bulwark over his shoulder—and threw.

I grit my teeth and barely escaped the path of the sword as it spun by, fortunately only cutting through my shoulder rather than my head.

I willed myself to stand. Reinforcing my legs to keep from crumpling into a crippled heap I kicked and flew backwards high into the night. A bright flash erupted where Berserker once stood, his armored form disappearing in the violent discharge of magical energy.

I angled my flight towards where I could feel Shirou was still fleeing, seeing him maneuvering through the maze of city streets just at the crest of my flight.

He was pale, sweat pouring as he labored to make it back home. It was clear that I'd taxed the boy too much in my engagement with Berserker. I resolved myself to make it up to him somehow as I landed next to him, making him jump back in surprise.

"S-saber?!" He said. "Are you alright? You look like hell!"

"I told you before, escaping suicidal situations is my forte," I said as I shifted back to my spirit form to conserve prana.

"What about Berserker? Did you get him?"

"I hit him with a broken phantasm while I exfiltrated," I said. "That was nowhere near what it will take to defeat him."


	23. Assassin II

Assassin II

I had hidden myself within the shadows of the bridge, and followed alongside the fight from my dark realm. I felt every vibration, heard every breath of air, and smelt every bead of sweat in their fight. When Rider's presence disappeared from the bridge it was all I needed. The splash beneath the bridge confirmed his escape. He would retreat home to lick his wounds, and this was the prime opportunity for me to visit some old friends.

I melted into the shadows and traveled from absence of light to absence of light instantaneously. Travel along the highways of my domain was unparalleled compared to the world of the sun. Berserker was not my mission, and so I left as the pitter patter of Shirou Emiya's footsteps echoed throughout the night.

The dark reaches of Fuyuki city were a labyrinth web of shadows. I crisscrossed from behind a dumpster to underneath a car to the alley behind starbucks without anyone blocking my path. My tongue clicked at the anticipation of freedom tonight.

I slinked up acrossed the street as an onrushing car rounded the bend a block away. The black cloak around my body vaporized and I was thrown into the harsh world of reality. My bare feet scratched at the rough asphalt and shook with the vibration of the vehicle heading towards me. A loud screech cut across the night as I dove away and back into the dark embrace in the gaps between two street lights.

The car came to a halt. The driver heaved with every passing breath as he gulped for air. A second heartbeat pounded in the backseat, one of a sleeping woman, this one was slower and more relaxed. After a tense minute the man slowed the vehicle forward and drove off. He was not my target, so I slid down the streets and into the alleyways.

I followed the backstreets until I found the Elegant Swan. I crawled up the bricked walls and clung onto the roof. Every trumping beat of music shook the walls and rattled my bones. Despite being a creature of the shadows it knocked with such ferocity I feared being thrown off like an amateur bull rider. I clung onto the thundering rooftop until I felt his presence.

A glowing light appeared in the dark corners of my mind. It wasn't so much sight as it was an image seared into my vision. The basking glow of Gilgamesh appeared as a blip on my radar. It grew and grew as it neared, and I slithered up to the edge of the wall to feel the presence of the great King of Babylon.

Even through the thundering nightclub his graceful steps shook the Earth like an impending war zone. He continued his walk with a smug oppressive air that smothered me harder than my cloak of shadows. I traced the Weight of Justice, a longsword with a six pound hilt, and the only real weapon in my armory. It was real because it was gifted to me by the Gilgamesh of my time. I gripped the sword and aimed it at his head.

He walked unawares, safe in his invincible knowledge. I had failed to kill him in my time, but I will not fail twice. But as I readied to loose the weapon he stopped. The King of Babylon twisted in place and the burning sensation of his gaze fell upon me.

I slunk back into the alleyway. I clung beneath an overturned trashcan as the footsteps picked up and disappeared into the night. It was no matter, Justice wasn't restored to Japan in a day, and I expected no difference in stopping Gilgamesh.

As I slinked backed back towards the Matou Manor the impact of steel on flesh vibrated through the air. "I have your money, please don't hurt my boy," cried a voice. I twisted my body towards it and glided alongside the walls of the alley. I hung just above the sound of the voices, listening in with a judgmental ear.

"Too late," spoke a scratchy, guttural voice.

"Boss man just doubled it," said another voice, this one soft and nasally, but no less arrogant than his partner in crime.

"But I have the money," cried the first voice. The sound of shuffling cash punctuated the air. The two bodies stood over the fallen, crying man, and for a second they remained frozen save the beating of their hearts.

It was broken at last with the swing of another first. "Too late," said the big man over his victim's painful whimpers. The money swooshed onto the ground and the smaller of the two thugs ran after it.

I heard enough. "I see providence has brought Justice here for a different purpose." My voice echoed across the walls.

The two thugs froze and turned round and round to find me. But they couldn't see me for they were blind to my watchful eyes. The big man pulled out a switchblade and took a fearful step in a random direction. "Who the fuck are you?" he yelled.

Justice would waste no time playing games. I projected two spears and pulled them from the shadows. They formed from ether in the material realm and jut from the dark corners away from the light. The steel tips aimed for their hearts and I let them loose. They flew swift and true.

Two silent screams echoed simultaneously. Two bodies thumped against the ground. And two cases of Justice had been served. I presided over the curled man and rose from the shadows. The cold winter air bit at my exposed skin as I too returned to reality. Let us see if a third case needed to be opened. "Why did you borrow money from them?" I asked.

"I don't know." His heart skipped a beat. It was a lie. I shoved my face in closer. He flinched back and curled into a tighter ball.

"Tell the truth."

"I am!"

I slammed my heel into his calf. He let out a wild yelp and slunk up against the wall. He turned his head left and right to find nothing but blocked exits.

"I needed the money for dope," he said at last. I cocked my head and listened in once more. It was the truth.

"And this boy of yours?"

"He's in the hospital," he said. A truth. "They threatened to hurt him if I didn't pay up." Another truth.

"Who are they? Why?"

"Yakuza, I was going to sell the dope to pay the medical expenses." The second part was a lie.

I slammed my fist against the wall. Chunks of brick shattered and fell by the wayside. I dropped my voice to a deep guttural growl. "If you haven't figured it out by now, I can tell when you're lying. So the truth."

"Okay, okay." He slid down the wall like a berated child. Salty beads of tears trickled down his eyes. "I took his money," he said. "For the bills. I used all of it."

I nodded. We were getting somewhere. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The scales tipped to an equilibrium. He both the victim and the victimizer. Only one more question will determine his fate. "Do you regret it?" I asked.

There was pause. His heartbeat raced with uncertainty. It spoke to me, and I found it wanting. He had three seconds to speak before I rendered judgment.

"Yes!" he said. His heartbeat cooled and I felt the pang of genuine regret from him.

I positioned myself so we were level, so he could see into the sunken pits where my eyes should be. "You will go to Fuyuki General Hospital. There is a nurse there, red haired with doe eyes like a child. She is an undercover officer. You will get treatment and offer your services as an informant. If you fail, Justice will find you. Is that clear?"

He nodded so fast I feared he would decapitate himself.

I turned around and dove back into the darkness.


	24. Interlude IV

Interlude IV

I sat on the edge of a dirt road with my palms held out like a simple beggar. The footsteps of two dozen souls echoed all around me, but they cared not. This was not a world for me.

It was a horrid place. In the aftermath of the war, humankind descended upon itself. Some cried it was the end of days. Others took the opportunity to enact their wildest fantasies. It didn't matter. In the end, I failed, left only with the Weight of Justice as my consolation.

Roving gangs killed and looted as they pleased. The weak became prey. And the drop in population drove the increased collective power of magecraft. The strong grew in strength as they fought amongst each other for power, trampling on the poor souls underneath their footsteps.

It was the Age of Heroes once more.

My ideals were nothing but a sham. I could not save anyone. I could not save these people. In this world there was no justice. There was no compassion, nor love. It was a place where only the strong lived and only the worthy could carry on. It was Gilgamesh's perfect world and these were the subjects he always wanted.

I held my arms out begging not for change, but a sign. And for years not a single person had shown me the least bit of concern. Those who bothered to notice my presence hoped to take advantage of a blind man. They saw me weak, easy pickings. I killed them without hesitation.

Lightning cracked overhead. Burning smoke filled my nostrils. The sound of screams and clashing steel rang in the distance. It was another fight amongst the new Gods. The flames danced around, rupturing the ground nearby. These fights ended as suddenly as they began, leaving nothing, but hell in their wake.

I sighed. The people rushed around me, hoping to find shelter. Self interest held sway amongst those still alive, extended only to save close family or valuable possessions. The few altruistic individuals died in the opening years, cut down for clinging to values of "justice," or "mercy."

A sick sense of social darwinism held sway. The strong became the new Gods and "Heroes." Conversely, on the other end of the spectrum, only the most cowardly and unscrupulous survived.

The patter of footsteps disappeared save one pair. As the others hid in their hovels, someone was running towards me. I shook my head as I remained seated. This was the perfect time to swindle a blind food.

"What are you doing?" cried a female voice.

I remained still, listening to the haggard breathing of her voice. The images in my mind sketched a hazy shape the size of an older child, a young teenager at best. I held out the last of my coins. She must have been desperate. The ground exploded behind me and she toppled forward onto my arm.

Chunks of bloodied dirt rained on us, but I remained perfectly still throughout the ordeal. I was never in any danger. The girl pushed herself back up. I tried to shove the coin purse into her chest when she grabbed my arm.

For the briefest of moments all my senses ceased to function. They homed in on one singular source. The tiny pair of hands wrapped around my wrist, trying in vain to pull me away from the carnage. What did she want from me?  
But she continued to pull. The strength in my body weakened, and with a final heave I lifted off the ground. She dragged me away from my spot, moving as fast as her little legs could take ? Why would someone care?

"Why?" I asked.

Another strike of lightning tore through the ground. The charred smell of burning oak overwhelmed me. The Earth shook and I felt the slack as the girl tripped.

I followed the arm into a ditch and we splashed into a pool of blood. It was an impact crater. In the water around us floated half a dozen corpses. The girl splashed rapidly, trying to push away the bloodied bodies, but I grabbed her and held her still. She fought for a moment before taking heed.

I poked my head out of the hole. Prana filled into my ears. My hearing improved, and the cries of whimpering echoed around. Above us continued the clash of Gods. One of the "heroic" figures slammed into the other. The two masses, brimming with power crashed through the countryside, destroying homes and crushing the weak. Every heartbeat that came close was snuffed out like a flickering light.

"Why did you try to save me?" I asked the girl.

Her heart beat rapidly besides mine. She remained silent, he lips moved, but no words came out.

"Why?" My voice was firmer, demanding an answer.

"I don't know." Her heart didn't skip, nor did it freeze. It was an honest answer. "I just wanted to save someone." She curled up into a small ball and cried. And as her figure shrunk smaller and smaller a spark ignited inside me.

I was no longer the deadest thing in this crater. I placed a hand on her chin and lifted it so our eyes would meet. "Thank you," I said, and pulled myself over the edge of the ditch.

The spark within became a flicker. The fire swirled and grew, as a newfound passion welled inside of me. Perhaps there was hope after all.

With trepidation I poured more prana into my body. My great sword hung at my side. It was my weapon of choice for a while, but not this time.

"Are you crazy?" screamed the girl.

Perhaps.

"There is nothing we can do."

In a flash Kanshou and Bakuya appeared. The feeling of nostalgia returned. A gasp came from behind me.

"You're one of them," whispered the girl.

No. I'm not.

I walked towards the sounds of conflict. The clash of steel and grunts pounded the area. I will end this.

The fighting ceased. Their movements stilled. In the ditches and craters around me many took advantage of the respite to run for it.

"We have a brave one here," the furthest voice said, his voice low and guttural. "You should know not to mess with the business of your betters."

I said nothing and kept my pace. The closer target's footsteps shifted, taking a defensive position. My ears picked up his shape as the sounds echoed to me. He carried a spear, and had it angled towards me.

"Hmph," he said, "consider yourself blessed to be killed by I-"

I closed the distance and cleaved his head off. Blood splashed my cheeks. Seconds later came the rolling thud as it hit the ground.

Gasps rang out from the field. Those who stayed behind either due to circumstance or stupidity grew fearful. I knew they viewed me in the same light. A misconception that must be corrected.

"Leave these people be," I said.

No response came save for uproarious laughter. Disbelief dripped from his voice. Even the muttering of the villagers were incredulous. Just another God claiming his fiefdom.

"These people shall come under harm. Their lives are not mere afterthoughts of your fancy."

A snort. "These people are my subjects. I will do as I please."

"Very well."

I charged him, Kanshou and Bakuya swung at random directions. Tremors in the ground and echolocation gave me a clear image of my opponent. He wielded a great warhammer half my size.

"Is that all you got?" he laughed, parrying my attacks.

My moves were sluggish. I had grown rusty. After the war despair took over me and I rarely used magecraft, let alone traced Kanshou and Bakuya. Still, I would carry on. If only to save the life of the single person who sought to protect me.

The air whooshed besides me. A brief vacuum cut through beneath my chest.  
"Agh!" the hammer slammed into my stomach, the same spot Gilgamesh had impaled me through. Amidst the pain I dropped Kanshou and Bakuya. Blood gushed from my mouth as I fought to remain standing. The distance between us grew, the dirt overturned as I slid backwards.

"Pathetic."

I drew my great sword and attacked again. The rust began to shake off as my moves quickened. He blocked blow after blow, but I was gaining the upper hand. My sword curved downwards finding its mark on the back of his knee.

"Fuck!" he screamed as he fell down. I clutched at the wound with one hand.

"Leave in peace," I said.

"I am the great Lu Shan!" he roared, "I will not be brought down by a mere mortal."

"You won't if you leave."

"Who are you do tell me off?" he scoffed, "I am a God!"  
I sighed. They were merely mages with delusions of grandeur. "You are no God."

The murmurs around me intensified. Amidst the fighting they seemed to have forgotten about their own lives. Ironic that the very people I wanted to save were too busy watching to escape.

I charged him again, kicking the back of his other knee like a football. A wild crack exploded in the air like lightning. Blood soaked between my toes.

Lu Shan cried in pain on the ground. He fell on his back and tried to shuffle away.

I walked over to him, sword in hand. He stopped shuffling when I slammed my foot onto his chest. Prana flooded into my heel, he would not be able to escape.

"Who are you?" he asked, his heart beat like a drum.

"I am..." I paused, mulling over the words. My grip on the great sword tightened. People stood around me in awe, their hearts beat not with fear, but excitement. They would survive. They would live!

Memories of my life came back for a moment. What was it that I always wanted to be?

A Hero of Justice.

Yes. That was what I wanted to be. But, there was no justice. I lived in a world where the weak lived in the crevices between the raging Gods above. I can't be a hero of what doesn't exist.

No.

If it does not exist, then I must create it.

I must become it.

"I am Justice," I said.

And slammed the tip of my blade into his throat.


	25. Archer III

Archer III

"Explain." Rin sat against the wall of the spare bedroom with her legs dangling over the edge. She had just finished her shower, and was now ready to grill me as she promised earlier.

The look of exhaustion remained on her face, but gone were the burn marks and splotches of blood. She sat determined, hungry for answers. Rin was smarter than she looked, which said a lot about her intelligence.

I sighed, closing the door behind me. This was going to be a long night. "How much do you know?"

"You recognize Saber and Rider," she said, "and furthermore they look exactly like you, minus Rider's skin complexion."

"We are the same person." I nodded, "Heroic Spirits are removed from the timeline. Therefore it is possible for future, or in this case, alternate versions of the same person to be summoned by the Grail."

"I see." Rin donned her glasses, the bent frames hung at an odd angle. It helped her concentrate even if she never needed them. "And my dreams. The way you always fought to save people. How you never gave up on your ideals."

"I am..." I hung my head. The painful memories flooded back into my mind. No matter what I did I only ever killed. It was unending. Betrayed by my ideals.

"Emiya," she said for me. Her lips curved into a frown as her features softened. "What happened?"

"My entire life is a contradiction," I said, my arms crossed. "The dream was never really mine, and my goals were selfish. In the pursuit of my ideals I came to realize that I could never truly be a hero."

She looked down at her feet, tracing small circles into the hardwood floorboards. "Is that what you meant about your "wish" earlier."

I blinked. She remembered. It was just a joke really. We had discussed what we wanted from the Grail, and she asked me what I wanted. "World peace."

She nodded. "Was that what you wanted?"

"I suppose," I said, "but I knew it could never come true. The cost is too much."

"But, is that still your wish?"

I paused, mulling over my words. At one point in my life it might have been, but the truth is something far worse. "No." I said. "In truth, world peace is the last thing I want."

Rin stared at me silence. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed them again.

"I can only feel happiness when I help others," I said. "When Kiritsugu saved me from the fire, I was not overcome by guilt for having survived. I was jealous of the look on his face."

"There must always be conflict for a hero to exist," Rin put the pieces together. In no time at all she had figured everything out. "Without people in danger, you couldn't save them. And at some point you learned the fastest way to save people was to kill everyone involved. Excising the tumor to save the organism."

I nodded. "I became a Counter Guardian."

"And so you became nothing more than a killing machine," she said, "in the end you were betrayed by your ideals."

She hit the nail right on the head. A few choice words and a short explanation and she had everything figured out. It was silly of me to think I could have hidden anything from her.

"But," she whispered. The slow realization dawned on her face. Another question began to nag at her. "What about Saber? Or Rider?"

"Different paths, different men," I said.

Someone knocked on the door. It appears that Saber and Shirou had returned from their patrol. I opened it.

"What's up?" Saber's face peaked through the crack, bandaged over one eye and covered in blood. His smile irritated me.

I slammed the door.

"Archer," Rin said in her angry voice.

"Fine," I said. I'll play nice for now, but only because we were dependent on their (my?) hospitality. I opened the door again.

Saber held a tray with a teapot and light snacks. Tea cakes and a rich velvet brew of some kind. "I figured you'd be hungry," he said. He limped over to the bed, pretending to not wince in pain with every step, and placed the tray down on the desk. He snuck quick, barely noticeable glances at Rin while he poured the tea into the blue and white cups.

Rin took a sip. "This is good," she said. She even tried a few of the biscuits, her hunger slowly surfacing beneath her facade.

Saber smiled, "figured you'd like it."

It was almost as if... as if he was doting on her.

"How was the patrol?" She asked him like a wife asking about her husband's day at work.

Saber shrugged. "Ran into Berserker, he kind of kicked my ass."

"I'm sure you did your best."

"Got a couple of broken bones, a bruised vertebrae, and a few cracked ribs." He laughed between mouthfuls of biscuits. "I'll definitely get them next time."

"Sure you will, but first, take a shower."

I stepped besides them, snapping Saber from his game. The cup felt hot when I grabbed it. I took a sip. The flavors swirled in the back of tongue as it swept down my throat. The smell of peppermint tickled my nose. It was... it was alright. "Adequate," I said.

"Oh?" Rin smiled. "Archer, are you jealous?"

I put down the cup and crossed my arms. No, I was not going to play this game. I turned around and headed straight out of the door.

Shirou bumped into me as I walked through the living room. Covered in dirt and skid marks, blackish blotches mixed with blood on his neck and face. He tracked it across the floor and stained my cloak.

I scowled. The thought of cutting him in half crossed my mind. Prana began to run through my circuits, but I fought the urge. Rin would not be pleased. And as much as I couldn't stand him, Saber was needed if we were to win this war. "Hmph," I said as I shoved past him. His blackened face scrunched in anger, but I ignored it.

The cool air on the porch provided some comfort to the burn marks on my skin. Funny that I did not notice them until now. I sat down by the support beam, staring at the midnight sky. A smattering of stars shone through the light pollution radiating from Fuyuki City.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the night Kiritsugu died. What was it that he said? He sat in his kimono, at peace. We were discussing the past, and I asked him about his dream.

"I wanted to be a superhero," he said.

And in my naivety I told him I would do the same. I would carry on his ideal. I would become what he always wanted to be.

But it was never my dream. It was never my ideal.

"This seat taken?" Saber appeared at my side. He didn't wait for a response and sat down immediately.

"You may sit where you please," I said, "I am a guest here."

He laughed. "A guest in your own home."

"This is no more my home than it is yours," I scoffed. "We may share the same origin, but we are not the same people anymore."

"I disagree," he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He held the opened end towards me.

I raised my eyebrow and leaned back against the support beam.

"Probably for the best," he laughed as he pulled out one for himself. A blackened lighter found its way into his hand. The cigarette crisped as it burned.

"How are we the same?" I asked, "you seem far too carefree about the situation."

Saber sighed. Smoke drifted across porch as he exhaled. "No matter what happens, the fundamental nature of the broken being that is Emiya Shirou never changes." He looked down at his hands. A sad smile settled on his face. The wrinkles underneath his face still as he stared at them. It was like he was remembering something.

"And look where that's gotten us."

He shook his head. "Broken men with stolen ideals," he put his cigarette down for a second. "But, have you ever saved a person that gave you hope?"

"What do you mean?" I tried to remember my past. The memories were literally a lifetime ago. The faces all blurred together, I couldn't think of a single person.

"The reality never lived up to the ideal," Saber took an extra long drag. He held his breath, and exhaled slowly. A small ring of smoke floated above him. "But I never regretted it."

I snorted. "I thought the same. But human desire never changes. In the end, all I do is clean up after their messes. Counter Guardians do not save people." The cycle will repeat itself over and over. I am cursed.

Saber remained silent, trying to think. His eyes drooped and his smile weakened. He could try to deny it, but I could see that he agreed with me.

"And why do you care?" I asked, "do you mean to save me too?"

He leaned back, cigarette dangling from his lips. They curled as he stared at me from the corner of his eyes. A light chuckle came out from underneath his breath. "Of course. Why shouldn't I try to save everybody?"

My heart stopped for a brief moment. Something inside me stirred. The sheer naivety of the statement reminded me too much of myself. A long time ago I would have cheered alongside that conviction. "You are foolish for trying. Humans are not sacred. They are not things worth saving."

Saber shook his head, his expression turned serious. "You are angry at yourself," he said.

"That may be true, but that does not make my statement false. Everything I saw was meaningless. Meaningless happiness. Meaningless sacrifice. Meaningless suffering. In the end it never mattered."

A part of me desperately wanted to believe Saber. But the memories were too intense. I could not see the big picture through the pile of corpses.

"I pity you, Archer."

"And I pity you, Emiya."

"I thought that maybe you would have remembered me."

I crossed my arms, feeling confused.

"When I said killing Shirou won't work, I meant it."

My eyes widened. What does he mean by that?

Saber took one last drag from his cigarette. It burned all the way to the butt before he crushed it against the porch. "You tried to kill me before, but I guess the original Counter Guardian hasn't accessed those memories yet."

The moment of clarity dawned on me. Saber had come from a timeline where I tried to carry out my plan. And yet he still lived.

"Don't even think of killing me right now," Saber lit up another cigarette. "We may be copies of the original, but don't forget. The lives of Rin and Shirou, of everyone in this city, are still very much real. Alternate realities or not, your decisions affect people."

Prana drained from my body. "And why did 'I' let you live?"

"To be honest, I don't remember anymore," Saber laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

"Perhaps I did something to remind you. All I know is that I never gave up. I knew I was right. I believed in the beautiful ideal."

The beautiful ideal? I wondered. It mattered not. In the end there was nothing left for me.

"Don't worry," Saber said as he stood up. "I know for a fact that I'll be able to convince you otherwise."

He left me sitting on the porch alone. The kindling cigarette snuffed itself out on the wood flooring. I tried to process what Saber said. His words rang hollow inside me. I understood them, but felt nothing. I simply could not understand anymore. Maybe I had forgotten. An unceasing cycle of torment rotted my mind.

I tried to imagine something that could convince me of it. Anything that could help me. But I came up with nothing. All I could see was the mess left behind. Left behind me for me to clean up.

Only one course of action existed. Saber convinced me of one thing, I could not kill my younger self. That Emiya Shirou is not the same as me, there would be no paradox. But maybe, at the least I could steer him from suffering the same fate as myself.

It was all I could do really. Given the sheer branches of the multiverse, and the different paths we all took, it was a longshot. But with luck, I could take solace in the idea that one of us could be saved after all.


	26. Lancer II

Lancer II

I walked the beat in the emptying streets of downtown. The foggy patches of my memory were still slowly stitching themselves back together, so I had little to work with. But what I did know was absolute, and I wasn't going to let something like the Holy Grail War get in the way of it. Namely speaking. This was my turf.

The Copenhagen was a good start, but it was only the tip of the iceberg. And so I wandered throughout the night in search of things to jog my memory. Kotomine was surprisingly chill about it. He seemed to get a kick out of my futile attempts to remember my past and blessed my travels on condition I tell him everything I find. Something seemed to have rattled the fake priest, but in a good way, he seemed cheerier and more upbeat about something. But I would worry about that later.

My first concern was the way I patrolled the night. The memories were faint, but somehow the way the streets curved and bended remained engraved into my soul. Muscle memory carried me throughout the night as I walked a foreign, yet familiar path.

My legs came to a stop in front of the flickering pink light of a malfunctioning neon sign turning on and off an irregular intervals. I registered the cursive letters reading "Kenji's Tattoo World" before my eyes glanced over it. A deep seated itched gnawed at my forearms, and I rolled up the sleeves to bathe an inked dragon and tiger in the pink light. This was the next stop, I just knew it.

I checked the alleyways around me by instinct. Nothing. The tattoo parlor was out of the way, yes, but the night was still too young for the streets to be this empty. So, I placed a hand on the gold glass, and pushed.

A bell rang to announce my entrance, and I walked up the stairs as the door closed behind me. The dark stairway faded into a deep crimson when I reached the top. A worn leather sofa cracking at its seams laid in the corner in front a series of similarly conditioned chairs. A twisted iron table held up by discarded needle guns welded together sat front and center. And laying on it was the shadow of a human being. It imprinted into it like the afterimage of an atomic bomb.

I knelt down next to it and touched it with a hesitant finger. An oppressive weight fell over me. A magical scar had engraved itself onto the material world, caused by some traumatic incident. I pulled out a silver case from my coat pocket. I opened it and took out a piece of chalk and two arrowheads.

I drew a circle around the shadow and laid one arrowhead centered with the other on the line. I snapped my fingers and trickled an ebb of prana into it. The white granites of chalk lit up and turned a faint blue. The arrowhead spun round and round, sending traces of chalk towards the center.

It continued until not a single freck of chalk remained. I knelt down and tapped the arrowhead in the center. Static images rushed my mind and played on repeat. I heard a scream and clattering chairs. A tattoo needle slammed into the ground, vibrating across the floor without direction. And out of the darkness the image of black shadow seared itself into his brain. The red trimmings of its appendages lunged forward, and dove for my heart.

"Fuck me," I screamed and fell backwards. I tripped over the arrowhead, and rolled into the soft cushions of the leather couch. I checked my heart and made sure all my other internal organs were where they needed to be. With everything in order I laid still for a minute to catch my breath. I eventually regained the strength to crawl back up from my spot and dusted myself off.

I stepped over the accursed arrowhead and stalked my way behind the counter. The telephone was unhooked and spoke with an incessant demand for the operator. I slammed it on the receiver and pulled out the appointment book.

For the last several week everything was hunky dory. Everyone showed up on time for their appointments, everyone got inked, and money was transferred; times were good. But soon the number of missed appointments grew in number. One here or there, then two or three. Soon no one was showing up. I double checked the dates. It started off only a few nights ago. The start of the Holy Grail war.

I pocketed the book, no one was going to need it, and left the tattoo parlor. Something was going on, and I was destined to root it out. I wasn't going to let anything happen to my turf on my watch.


	27. Saber IV

Saber IV

I watched in my spirit form as Shirou went about his, or should I say, our, morning routine. It was a daily mantra, to gain some sense of normalcy even in the midst of the Fifth Grail War and one that would continue until the end of our life.

He wiped the sweat from his morning workout, no doubt frustrated over his perceived lack of magical progress, before heading off to prepare breakfast.

Admittedly, his fundamentals were poor, below even the lowest of novice's. But he made up for it tenfold in aptitude. If he kept it up, before long he would progress in the art faster than even I had.

The Emiya household filled with the scent of simmering food as the sun peaked over the horizon. Rin would stumble into the room, giving a tired greeting before collapsing into her seat the table. She was never a morning person, made only worse when the kids were born. Doubly so when Abby turned out the opposite in this particular regard.

"You don't need to set a place for me," I said in my spirit form. "I'm still healing from yesterday, so I think I'll hang around like this for today. Besides, Shirou could do without me draining his already meager prana supply.

"You're not being a drain on anything. If anything if I were a better Master then—" Shirou said.

"There's no point in wishing we were something else. We can only be and improve on what we already all. Besides, I'll recover faster this way."

He remained unsure, and I could see why. I wasn't a familiar to him, but a houseguest and companion. After all, that was how I saw _her_.

"He's right, Shirou," Rin said. "Just think of it as Saber taking a day off. I'm sure he'd enjoy a short break before he has to risk his life again."

She crossed her arms and with a wry smile said, "You know, Archer, maybe I should give you a day off as well. Maybe you'll give me less sass if you had a day to relax."

"Some of us happen to remember that we're embroiled in a Grail War, Rin," Archer scoffed.

"Of course I remember. Oh well, don't think I'll let you roll over this vacation day," she joked.

"Well, if Archer is offering to 'work' in my place," I said, "then I'll be off."

Shirou smiled, "did you already have something planned for today?"

"Figured I'd pay a visit to someone."

Even in my spirit body I could feel the weight of incense in my air. I could feel it, a certain energy clung to this graveyard. It a sense of departed feelings and forgotten memories.

I drifted between the rows of grave markers, between families in morning, between dear friends departed. I had a grave in mind, a particular one that I hadn't visited for some time.

Should I have brought an offering? It would've been the polite thing to do, the normal thing to do. But then again, there weren't normal circumstances. I gazed over the name carved into the black gravestone and wondered why I came here: the grave of Emiya Kiritsugu.

After all, this wasn't _my_ Kiritsugu. The adopted son of this Kiritsugu was chatting over breakfast back home with Rin. No, I was just a phantom from another world come to satisfy a wish borne from nostalgia.

His grave was well maintained with freshly cut white lilies sitting in inset urns. Was my grave as well taken care of as my father's? Did Abigail and Malcolm visit often? Did Rin? Did they wonder the same things that I do now in another world?

How are you doing?

Are you happy wherever you are?

Are you proud of what I've accomplished?

I let out a chuckle. I had visited Kiritsugu's life once before with Abigail, Malcolm, and Rin. I was so proud then, to show Kiritsugu the happiness I'd obtained. It was nothing like the somberness that I felt now.

Was it the isolation that I felt? Somewhere out there in the far reaches of the multiverse my family busied themselves with their daily lives, but I wasn't there with them. I felt, in some respects, like an outsider here participating in an event that should have already passed.

Despite the training and advice I'd given Shirou so far, I still held back. I didn't want to force anything on him like the Archer I knew. I don't have that right. But still, a part of me wanted to charge forward, to give Shirou every tool, every weapon, every piece of advice I'd learn in life.

I wanted to give him the salvation I'd found in life.

But I was reaching an understanding about this Grail War that I didn't think that Shirou had even begun to grasp. Archer, Berserker, Lancer, myself... there was no doubt in my mind that Shirou was beginning to resonate with us—especially if my suspicions about Assassin and Caster were correct.

Save Archer, I had no real knowledge of the lives and paths that these other versions had lived. No matter how desperately I clung to my own ideals and the path that I walked in life, could I really turn around and denounce the lives that these other iterations had lived? Even the warped Counter-Guardian EMIYA had lived a noble life before he had been taken into service by Alaya.

Could I really, in good conscience, force Shirou's life down the same path that I had walked?

"Oh, hello," said a mousy voice.

I flinched, surprised to say the least. No one should be able to see me in spirit form, not unless they were a Master. And no Master would be so foolish as to approach an unknown Servant alone.

But then as my memory set I realized why this person could see me.

The voice belonged to a shy looking girl with brown hair and a smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts. Yes, of course, how could I forget that one of Rin's friends was somewhat spiritually attuned—the realization of which had, quite frankly, shocked Rin.

I smiled back at Yukika Saegusa.

"Hello there," I said with a wave.

She shoulders relaxed as if my wave and smile had alleviated her reservations.

"Who are you?" She asked. "I thought you were someone that I knew from school-"

"I'm just a ghost," I said. "No need to worry."

She thought that over before accepting it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"You must be a good ghost then," she said. "The reason I came over was because you _felt_ the same as someone from school I know."

"Oh?" I said. "And what does this person feel like?"

Her face scrunched up like she was trying to put words to her thoughts.

"Like a warm sunny day," Yukika said, "you know, you even look like him a bit. Like if he grew up and got a bit tanner and started graying a bit more, then he'd probably look close to what you look like."

She crouched down, brushing aside dirt from stone tiling before taking a seat.

"I was looking for my little brother around here. We were visiting the temple together, but he wandered off. He's such a little troublemaker."

"Oh? That sounds exhausting."

"It can be sometimes. I'm the oldest in my family; all of my siblings are little brothers so I always feel out of breath dealing with them." She smiled. "But still, I love them from the bottom of my heart. After all, we only have each other.

"You know Ghost-san," she said, "I may not have an older brother, but I think that if I did they'd feel a lot like you do. A warm dependable person, at least that's what I think, so how come you feel so sad too then?"

Hmph, this little girl saw right through me.

"Well, I've a lot on my mind. I'm trying to decide on something."

"Do ghosts have this happen a lot?"

"I guess you could say that," I laughed. "There's a person that I'm trying to help, but I don't know how. Normally I'd rush forward straight way, but with this person, I feel like if I try to help too much, I'd just end up deciding their life for them.

"And that's the very last thing I'd ever want to do. A very confused man once tried to do the same to me and I fought him to determine my own future. I don't want that to happen to him."

Yukika sat in silence at my words, considering the weight of them in starts and stops. "Uhm, my friends say I'm a little bit airheaded and that sometimes I don't pick up on certain things when I'm talking to others," she said as she wrung her hands, "but I think maybe you just have to have faith in that person?"

My jaw hung at her simple answer.

"Maybe you should give him all the tools he needs and then trust that he can make his own decision on his future."

I nodded in silence. It was true, there was a level of trust between us, even if I can't expect him to do the smart thing, Shirou will always do the right thing. But the images of Archer's life flashed before me.

"Did you have children, Ghost-san?" She tilted her head, examining me with a careful eye.

"How did you know?"

"You sort of feel like my dad. He worries about us, but he knows he can't watch us forever."

I see. Abbey, Malcolm. I never wanted any part of my life to affect theirs. I didn't want it for them, and yet, they did it anyways. There was no stopping the two of them. Once, Rin and I were forced to explain ourselves to Abby's middle school principal. She had beaten a dozen bullies twice her size in the span of a week, and no one had any idea as to how.

"You're smiling."

I touched my face, she was right. It was then I realized the answer to my question.


	28. Rider V

Rider V

Sakura hummed a sad tune as she diced up the long pieces of carrots and raw onions in the kitchen. The water ran in the sink as a simmering fire burned on the gas stove. I slid across the cold tile flooring with silent footsteps. She remained focused on her task, her head hanging low, and failed to see me until I was right next to her.

"R-rider," she stammered. The sound of cutting carrots stopped as she held the knife in her hands.

"Let me help." I took it from her and started on the task with a mindless automation. It stole my thoughts away from the grail, if only for the moment.

Sakura nodded. She opened the fridge and took out a plate of fish, and laid it besides me. Together we worked in a natural silence. I finished the vegetables and she oiled the pan for the next step. Our eyes met and I caught the glimmer of a faint smile on her lips before it disappeared like a passing whisper. "Did you get in a fight last night?" Her gaze fell on the burnt marks on my hands.

"Berserker." I dumped the vegetable into the pan and stirred. "On the bridge. I got away."

She remained silent with those sad eyes of hers. She stared down at my hands without making any contact. My body shook underneath her oppressive gaze, and I felt myself shrinking away like a child in time out. But at last her lips curved upwards, appearing like the image of a child's drawing of a bird in flight. My cold heart stopped mid beat and I turned away in shame. "I'm glad," she said over the sound of searing onions.

At a loss for words, I merely nodded, and returned my attention back to breakfast. I placed the fish on the pan and warmed myself against the sizzling fire.

Sakura joined me at my side, her smile had shrunk to her normal stoic self. "You like cooking," she said in a mournful voice. She stared at the frying fish with drooping eyes and a heavy sigh, as if she were remember something, or someone. "Where did you learn Japanese food in Greece?"

"Why aren't you at Emiya's?" I changed the subject. Sakura didn't need to know my identity anymore than I did. Best to put it back on war footing.

"He said for me to stay home for the next couple of weeks."

"He wants to protect you."

"..."

"He's Saber's master, you know."

She remained silent for a moment before finding her words. "I had a dream last night."

"What was it?" I said as I flipped the fish. The sound of searing salmon intensified alongside the glistening bits of sliced onion. The flaming embers leapt from the stove and bit at my hands. I pulled back, but suffered in silence.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me. What was your dream?"

Sakura paused. She held her gaze on my hands for a hot second before she found the words. "It was dark. And I was angry," she said. "I wanted to hurt people. And when I woke up I was happy." She stopped for a second and looked at me. "I was scared. Not because of the dream, but because I was so happy when I woke up."

It was my turn to remain silent. Painful memories of my past rushed onwards. I remembered the dark shadows, the scores of dead townsfolk, and the stillness of her peaceful corpse. The idea that this Sakura would befall the same fate wrapped itself around me and squeezed until I could bear it no more. I tore myself away from the stove and refused to look at her. The charred marks on my hands washed away underneath the rising blood. It seeped into the recesses of my skin and infused itself into my bones. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands. I could feel the blood dripping onto the white tile. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Rider," Sakura said, her voice full of concern.

My eyes shot open and my crimson stained hands returned to its pale glow. I turned to face Sakura, she stared back with and fidgeted with a worried look. "Don't worry about it," I said trying to convince myself more than her. "I will win this war before anything bad happens."

Sakura nodded. She took the pan off the stove and put everything in place for breakfast. I calmed myself and moved to set the table. Three bowls. One for Sakura, one for that vampire Zouken, and one for that bastard Shinji. He would be coming down any second, hungry with lust and burning for food. I wouldn't suffer anymore than the bare minimum time with him. So I walked away.

But as I willed myself into my spirit form Sakura speaked. "Please stay."

I froze in place. The sound of Shinji stomping down the stairs erupted from the hallway. He would be here any minute and I could be gone without having seen him today. I wouldn't stay here. No. No matter what.

But any resistance to the idea vanished when Sakura spoke again.

"Please," she said. "You make me feel..." she trailed off in a voice so soft even I couldn't hear here.

My will was broken, and I surrendered without a fight. I turned to look at Sakura straight in the eye. The rays of morning sun broke through the window and lifted every strand of her purple hair. She stood radiant, bathing in the light with the innocence of an angel. For brief moment the weight upon my shoulders lifted away.

And for the first time in many years, I smiled.


	29. Lancer III

Lancer III

Sneaking into the Fuyuki PD headquarters proved easier than expected. It was like a dark cloud hushed itself over the precinct, nudging watchful eyes away from uncomfortable cases. He pushed through the double doors of the main wing with hunch shoulders, walking with the purpose of a plainclothes detective. No one looked twice, and no one seemed to care. The operators were awash with calls, reports of strange sightings, but despite the assurances of police support not a single car pulled out of the station.

Whatever was going on it came from the top. I avoided eye contact with a pair of uniformed officers, they ignored me and I returned the favor in kind. For some reason they gave me a wide berth without bothering to check if I truly belonged here.

I found myself standing in front of the commissioner's door. Through the pixelated glass I saw an empty room, and double checked my surroundings before giving the door handle a twist. It groaned open and I stepped inside before anyone could spot me. The door shut behind me and I made sure to lock it in case anyone else came snooping about.

An organized mess of papers laid on the table, alongside a deep purple folder. I opened it, and flipped through the unrolled scrolls of yellowed paper. The words were crafted beautifully, and by hand, and made mention of the Mages Association. It was that time again, the Holy Grail War, and the cops were in on it. I flipped through it for clues, and found only a single contact. Kotomine Kirei. I grit my teeth. For all the man's dickish behavior, he took his job seriously.

The closed the folder and threw pulled out a drawer. I flipped through them until I found the missing person's reports. I laid them on the table alongside the appointment book I swiped from the tattoo parlor. I matched up the names. Anyone under twenty was listed as runaways, those older as having moved away. I double checked the addresses and surnames. Entire families moved away in the past week, a mass exodus improbable by anyone with a careful eye.

A few of the names came up in the logbook multiple times. Larceny, assault, shoplifting, and a range of serious to petty crimes. It made sense, times were changing, but tattoo are still heavily associated with crime in Japan. I stole a pen and circled those names. They all had one other thing in common, a link to the Fujimura family of the local Yakuza.

It jogged my memory. Something about the name rolled off the tongue and it felt a pang of nostalgia. Whoever these people were, I knew them. I rolled up my sleeves to inspect my tattoos. Perhaps I was one of them.

The door jostled, and a knocking sound tapped on the glass. I closed the folders and shoved them back into the drawers with the sound of jingling keys. I rushed over to the windows, threw them open, and took off into the night ahead the sound of angry screaming.

I stopped in front of the house of one of my circled names. The streets were empty despite the early night, the cars were home, but in houses there wasn't a single light. Everyone couldn't have gone to bed, not this early, and not everyone. The streets were dead, much like their inhabitants.

I walked up the steps to the door and found it also unlocked. Suspicious. Either the people were careless, or someone was home, or perhaps they were never able to lock the doors. The same oppressive air fell over me when I entered. It was exactly like the tattoo parlor. But this one was more recent, I could feel it.

The lights were off, so I reinforced my eyes to improve my night vision. Something told me turning on the lights would be an unwise decision. I crept down the hallways and towards the kitchen, and knelt down with my back against the wall to listen in. A soft scurrying sound came from the room. Little pitter-patter sounds filled my ears, scratching at me from the walls. I drew my dagger, and unraveled a meter of garotte. The breath of hot air fogged up my sword, and I rounded the corner.

Two mice squeaked at me and ran off. But it only did so to run away from the dark shadowy wisp of a forgone soul. It stared at me with its empty face of ash, and I spotted my own reflection within the white orbs of its eyes.

Caster, I thought. He was behind the disappearances. I threw my blade and swung my garrote wire in a sharp arc. It lept between the line of diamond filament and rushed me. I sent out more wire, sending a crisscrossing pattern in front of me, but it didn't give a fuck. It burst into a cloud of ash and scattered into the winds. The gusting air sent it adrift out the open windows.

"God damnit," I said. And for a minute I thought I was onto something. Next time, I told myself, next time I won't let it go. It had burst into ash too soon, I would have to prevent that from happening.

I locked the doors and windows on the way out. There was nothing keeping me here. The only clue I had was the appearance of Caster's familiar, and I got nothing out of that. Better check the other houses, I thought.

The other houses proved useless. Not a single clue save for the scores of empty rooms and abandoned meals. So I put my brain on neutral and coasted the streets of downtown Fuyuki. A few of the lights were on, and some of the businesses were open. The owner of a hair salon swept the floors as she cast a mournful look out the window.

She looked at me funny, and it took me far too long to realize I was staring. "What the heck," I said, and pushed open the door. The woman smiled and waved for me to come over. I went over the chair and sat into it. "Trim the sides," I said, "leave the top.

As the hair stylist wrapped the bib around me I caught a shade of short brownish blond hair out the corner of my vision. The door slammed open and in trampled a woman in a green and yellow dress. "Shirou!" she roared with her eyes closed. "What are you doing out so late?" she asked before freezing in front of me. She blinked a few times, her face moving between confusion, anger, and then at last confidence. "You're not Shirou."

"Guess not," I said with a wry smile. "Friends call me Lancer, but if I look anything like this Shirou you speak of he must be a handsome guy.

"I'm Taiga," she laughed and held out a hand.

I shuffled underneath my oversized bib and met hers, awkwardly at best, as the hair dresser clipped away at my scalp. "Charmed. So tell me about this Shirou guy," I asked. "Seem ta be getting confused as him a lot these days."

"He's a good kid," Taiga waved a hand dismissively with a cheer. "He's a student of mine, he lives up in the old district."

I nodded. The pieces of the puzzle were becoming more clear. Looks like this Shirou guy was the kid I tried to swack a couple of days earlier. "Hey," I interrupted, "He wouldn't happen to have any strange guests over lately, would he?"

"Hmm," Taiga thought about it. Strands of red hair fell by the wayside as she stood there deep in thought. "We have an old friend staying over. He also looks kinda like you, too. But with a tan and bleached hair. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I said, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia hit me. There was something about this kid that keeps popping up. First the Copenhagen, now this place. Normally I would dismiss this as coincidence, but this was different. Taiga said goodbye, and as she left I decided it was time to give a little more detailed report to Kotomine. Perhaps he could help me out regarding this whole Emiya thing.


	30. Assassin III

Assassin III

I sat alongside a bench outside the Copenhagen, huddled in a moth bitten hoodie I had stolen from the dumpster behind TJ Maxx. Then covered myself up in more layers and rags, making sure to show only my mouth and the open palms of my feet. I could've melted into the shadows, but when you wanted to be seen without being noticed, it served to hide in plain sight.

"Still out here, mister?" The kindly woman from the bar walked up to me. I smelt the greasy slush of fried beef and crusted bread before she held it in front of me. "You should really come inside."

"I belong out here," I said, but took the sandwich out of gratitude. "Thank you," I said, not for the meal of course. But for being someone worth fighting for. This was the world I had missed, and I wouldn't rest until the greatest threat to it was eliminated.

The woman pursed her lips. I could hear her heart, she was wracked with indecision. She wanted me to come inside the bar, business by damned, but at the same time didn't want to force me. I decided to end her pain.

"Maybe later tonight," I said. "I'll come inside when I'm ready."

"Door's open," she said, and walked away.

I bit into the sandwich, tasting the grease and flavor swimming down my throat. I wasn't hungry for nourishment, but the care put into it fed me beyond what she would have expected. It disappeared in a minute and I thanked her once more. Then I returned to business.

Vague memories from my war coupled with my current scouting charted a map of Gilgamesh's travels. He would wander the streets seemingly at random, inspecting the city of its excesses and reveling in his own self importance. But in truth every move was calculated, planned, and approved by the God-King himself. If his judgment was correct, Gilgamesh would be walking down this street any minute now.

And on that thought a blinding golden glow appeared in the corner of his mind. It was the lighthouse beacon in his world of darkness. Where his sight had gone, all that remained was the single glowing figure of the man he was cursed to kill. The footsteps of the God-King approached, and soon neared.

I thought of bringing forth the weight of Justice, but stayed my hand. It was too soon.

The golden light stopped in front of me. The sound of rustling fabric rang out amongst the clinging of loose change. Gold coins clanked against the ground at my feet. "A fine performance," he said. "Much better than your red-headed compatriot."

My silence was my response, and I waited for the moment to pass. Memories of his cruel reign flashed in my forefront. Cries and howls of pain penetrated my ears as the sound of a dying family died. The young father pushed against the rabid knights with a feeble arm, but they swung their swords down and ripped through the flesh and fabric from shoulder to hip. "Justice is not a role," the words escaped from my mouth against my better judgement. "It is who I am."

The sound of cracking bones rang out. The heat of his body grew as he neared me. "Indeed," his said. "You know who you are, but not what. Justice is many things in many cultures. How are you so fit as to lay judgement on the worthy?"

I didn't have an answer.

"Simple," he chuckled. His amusement set off a tinge of anger within me, and I fought the urge to leap from my seat and draw my weapons, regardless of outcome. "You have power, and that is what grants you the right."

"It is my power to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Perhaps." I could see him shrugging despite the blindness. The footsteps continued and Gilgamesh walked away. "But if you were weak, then justice would be worthless." The footsteps grew faint before finally disappearing.

When he was fully gone I stood up and walked away. The question roiled in my end for a moment before I put it away for later. What is Justice? Truly. I don't think it really mattered, because the mission remained the same, the details irrelevant. I melted back into the shadows and traveled my dark networks back to the Matou household.


	31. Interlude V

Interlude V

I found him in the dining room. The one thing in the world I wanted to see dead. Gone was his sneer and the air of narcissism. He put up no fight, gave no boasts. Instead, he whimpered in the corner, backed up against the wall. His sleek blue hair coated in mud. "Emiya!" he cried. "You have to understand!"

I sighed, this was not the epic confrontation I expected. I placed the can of gasoline on the dining table. Its half empty contents swooshed as it settled. This place will burn. Killing Zouken had brought me no joy and I hoped confronting Shinji would give me some sense of closure. Instead, I felt nothing. My breathing was calm, and my posture relaxed. I walked over to Shinji, staring down at him with my arms at my side.

"You want to help people, right?" he begged. Sweat drenched his face as he looked at me. He reached at me with an open palm, praying for mercy. "Help me, Emiya. I can still be saved."

I reached for his arm, grasping it at the wrist. My heart stilled, and my eyes narrowed. Shinji relaxed as I pulled him up. He felt safe. He felt like he won. A soft smile began to form at his lips.

He was wrong.

Prana surged into my hands. My grip tightened on Shinji's wrist. He pulled back as he realized my intent. The look of shock on his face priceless. With a single motion I twisted. The ulnar and radius bones in his arm split in two, piercing through his skin. Blood ruptured from the wound, splashing my face. It coated my hand, running down the sleeves of my shirt.

"Ahh!" he screamed as he continued to struggle, "it hurts! It hurts!"

Spare me.

I tightened my grip, shattering the bones in his wrist. He clutched at his elbow with his other arm. Tears welling from the pain. I shoved him face down onto the carpet. He let out another cry as his bones splintered against the ground. I lifted up my leg and stomped down on the small of his back with my heel.

A crack echoed throughout the mansion.

"STOP!" he continued to beg, "please!"

I looked down at him as he writhed in pain. He tried to crawl away, pushing with his legs and pulling with his one good arm. He tried to put as much distance between us as possible. He tried to escape his sins.

I kicked him in the gut, the tip of my foot dug deep into his stomach. Blood gushed from his mouth. "No," he whimpered between coughing fits. "Have mercy."

No.

Too many people have died. Rin, Illya... Sakura all gone, all because of him. He was the last loose end. The final mirror in this kaleidoscopic funhouse of a story. He will pay for what he's done.

I slammed the back of my heel into the pit of his knee. My shoe ripped through the cartilage and bone, leaving a blood stained footprint in the carpet.

Shinji stopped moving. Not even the death twitches could be seen. He buried his face into the carpet, the shock of pain overtaking him.

Pathetic.

I strolled over to the gas can. Its contents half empty, just enough for the dining and living room. The smell of gasoline invaded my nostrils as I splashed them around the room. An even coating imbedded itself into the carpet and drywall. I grew light headed, and my vision blurred.

But it was done.

With the final drops staining the door frame of the entrance, I tossed the empty gas can into the corner. I pulled out a matchbox, holding it steady in my hands.

"Please..."

I looked back at Shinji. He crawled a few inches into the living room. His body soaked in blood and his purple eyes pleading for mercy.

"Give me..." he mouthed, his voice raspy, "give me a chance. Think about... what Sakura would have wanted."

Her face forced its way from the depths of my mind. Soft cheeks, fuschia bow, purple eyes. The image of the woman I failed to save. That I refused to save.

I walked over to Shinji, and knelt down to his level. He looked back me, unsure. I took a deep breath. My heart stilled. The words found its way to my mouth. "If you can make it out the door, you can live." I said.

His face darted towards the entrance, hope in his eyes. With his last remaining strength he started to drag himself. It was his last shot at salvation.

But the odds were never in his favor. I held my hand up high, prana giving the sickle form. It was Rider's, a final send off for her. I swung it downwards, piercing Shinji at the ankle. It embedded itself into the ground, locking him in place.

He struggled and squirmed, kicking and dragging with his remaining limbs. For a second I thought he would rip his own leg off.

I stood up, my heart still. My breathing was calm as I walked towards the door. This did not give me the pleasure I had hoped. Pity was the only thing I felt. Putting him down would be a mercy.

"Emiya!" he screamed as I stepped out of the house. "You bastard! You said you'd give me a chance!"

I turned around, staring back at him. The defiance was back. His face twisted and contorted with rage as he cursed my name. I pulled a match out from its box and lit it. Shinji's face changed, switching between a mix of fear and anger. I held it up to my face, a fire holding steady as it ate its way down the wood. The heat tickled my cheek, and the dancing flames captivated me.

I looked back at Shinji. "It was more of a chance than you gave Sakura," I said. And dropped the match at my side.

It started off small, a brief spark at the edge of my foot. It trailed around the living room, growing as it began to consume the furniture. The smoke rose and the black clouds poured out of the windows. I walked away from it amidst Shinji's screams.

I stepped onto the streets without looking back at the funeral pyre I had made. Not for Shinji. But for the woman I once loved. The twisting flames would eat its way into the heart of the house, burying the sins of the Matou family. The world would never know, nor care. I reached into my pocket, fishing around for what I wanted. It was a little cloth ribbon. Rin had made it. Sakura had worn it. And now its all I have left of them.

As I walked away from the flames I held it firmly within my blood drenched hands.


	32. Shirou VI

Shirou VI

Rin adjusted her red rimmed glasses and sat down on her bed. "Now Shirou," she said with a pointed finger. "What in God's name are you doing?"

To be honest. I didn't even know myself. We were in the guest room out in the backyard, where Rin had busied herself with moving in. Besides the table was a small blue bag containing everything she owned, the result of a day long shopping spree/scavenger hunt in the remains of her house. It wasn't much, new clothes and whatever jewels she had left. She used it to set up a new workshop in the room. "What do you mean?" I asked back.

"Damn it, Shirou." Rin threw up her hands with a frustrated growl. "This is serious. You shouldn't be fighting. That's what Saber's for."

My eyes narrowed. "You two have been spending a lot of time together. He's my Servant."

Rin's face flushed a deep red, out of embarrassment or anger I didn't know, but she didn't let me change the subject. She calmed down, and seemed resigned, as if she were letting me win. This image of Tohsaka still threw me for a loop. What remained of the image of the perfect school idol crumbled away for good. "There's nothing I can to stop you," she said, "so I'm going to train you, instead."

I wanted to say something in response, but found the words deserting me. Instead, I nodded, and accepted the help granted towards me. Rin taught me what she knew in magecraft, helping to refine my tracing, nodding and frowning every so often when I did something that wrong, stupid, or both. The morning drew to a close, and it was almost dinner time when I asked in a moment of idiocy. "Why are you helping me, Tohsaka?"  
"What kind of question is that?" Her eyes narrowed. She studied my face, likely wondering if I was mad.

"I don't know. I don't really know anything," I said. The words weren't my own, but they were true. Something was unsettling, wrong, and while I couldn't put it to words I felt it. Archer, Saber, and Rin, they were representatives of something I wasn't quite understanding. "The war wasn't what I imagined."

Rin's lips pressed together to form a single flat line.

"Nevermind," I said, feeling stupid. I got up to leave the room when Rin grabbed my sleeve. A sharp tug pulled me back onto the ground.

"What did you think it would be like?" Rin's arms were folded and her legs crossed. She stared down at me like a stern teacher rebuking a student. Yep, I definitely felt stupid now.

I shrugged. "I guess I thought it would be a chance for me to save people."

Rin grit her teeth and looked away. I thought I caught the slight glimpse of tears welling at her eyes, but dismissed it. Even if what I saw were true I didn't dare to point it out. "You're an idiot, Shirou."

I nodded. That was one thing I knew for certain. "Thanks for training me." I traced a little gold lamp and let it sit on at her feet. The process was much smoother now, cleaner, more pure, and I was progressing quickly. Then I got up and left her to her thoughts.

After lunch I met Saber in the dojo. He had shed his vest and stood in the center of the room with a shinai in one hand. He smiled when I slid open the door and waved for me to come in. What surprised me however was Archer's presence in the corner of the room. "Don't mind him," Saber said. "He's just being stubborn."

I cast Archer a glare, returning the look he gave me the previous night after our patrol. His eyes met mine, but he didn't move, continuing to lean against the wall with impatience. So I walked forward underneath his watchful gaze, and traced the twin swords Saber often carried. Kanshou and Bakuya. I knew the name the moment their image was seared into me, even if I didn't consciously realize it.

"Good," Saber held out his shinai. "You're image is improving."

"It's weak." Archer cut in. "There are too many flaws."  
"Oh shut up, you." His voice raised an octave, and I swore I heard the hint of a british accent in it. "Anyways." The voice returned to normal. "Not all your enemies will fight like I do, so I'm going to mix it up a bit."

"Okay," I said, then charged.

We traded blows for an hours, and absorbed the knowledge transferred to me. I felt my skills improving with every swing, every clash, every punch, kick, and dive. Saber's movements were natural, dynamic, and as the minutes dragged on my movements began to mirror his down to the detail.

"What do you hope to gain from this?" Archer said to me.

I ignored him and pulled a bottle of water from a cooler Saber had brought out and dumped it on my head.

"Hmph." Archer turned away, almost sulking if I didn't know any better. "You don't have to tell me. But I pray you at least know the answer."

"I need to get stronger." I threw the empty bottle back into the cooler. It swooshed against the ice.

Archer shook his head. "That wasn't the answer to my question."

"This again?" Saber stepped in. He popped open a can of Dr. Pepper and closed the cooler. "You won't win."

"This isn't about winning." Archer sighed, then walked over to me. He traced Kanshou and held the black marbled blade in front of him.

I saw something. The sky. Bright, yet dark, a reddish orange color of the setting sun, with brown scalding dusts drifting along the wailing winds. A hill drove up from the earth, it's grass stained and covered with so many bodies not a strand of green existed in it. And atop the hill stood a crude figure, propped up amongst the corpses by a long golden spear that pierced his chest.

I shook my head. The dojo returned into view, but the sword was gone. Saber held Archer's wrist by the hand and glared at him, his face the same shade of red as Rin's Servant. "Get out of here," Saber said.

"No," I found myself saying. "He can stay."

Saber turned, his eyes studying me. I felt a familiar shudder run up my spine. Just like Rin, I thought. The red faded back into normal shade of bronze, and he sighed. "Okay." He let go of Archer's hand, and then apologized.

"Accepted." Archer smirked, but it vanished as soon as it appeared. "You want to be a hero." He said, but it didn't sound pointed at me, but instead at no one in particular.

"Yes." I answered him anyways. "I'm training to become a hero. I can't save anyone if I'm weak."

"You can't save everyone." Archer's face twisted before my eyes. His hair darkened a heavy shade of black as his skin paled. His eyes turned deep brown. "To save someone requires the sacrifice of another."

A throbbing headache hit me and I grabbed my skull. When it disappeared I found Archer looking his normal, jerkish self.

"It's not about the numbers," Saber said. "It's about the people." He spoke with conviction, with his soul behind the weight of his words. "You've become so focused on the numbers you've forgotten."

"Perhaps." Archer crossed his arms and laughed. "But I have seen far more than you have. Done far worse. The people stop mattering when you realize saving their lives doesn't amount to anything. Surely you understand."

I shrunk away from them, wanting to go away. I felt like a child, wanting mommy and daddy to stop fighting. "Please, I think I've heard enough."

"You have seen more," Saber said. "But you have not felt weight behind your actions. You haven't lived with the consequences. It's easy to kill a person here or there, remove a problem, or excise a tumor as you call it. But it's a hell of lot different when you stick around."

Archer remained silent. He nodded, accepting, if not defeat, the point of the argument. He returned to the spot on his wall and watched for the rest of the afternoon.

"Sorry-" Saber tried to say.

"Be quiet." I wanted peace a quiet. A fog fell on my mind as a swirl of images invaded my mind. We continued our training, but at a more sluggish and confused pace. Every so often I would do something, move a certain way, or dive somewhere for no reason. It was like muscle memory interfering with my actions, but I knew for a fact I had never done such a maneuver before. We called training done a little early, and I didn't protest when Rin fought for the chance to make dinner. My mind was too much of a mess as a series of images stitched themselves like a crazed mosaic. Each segment was different, drastically so, yet so right, like when a segment of a dream segued to the next in ways the awoken mind would deem illogical.


	33. Saber V

Saber V

To my surprise, Rin didn't argue when I tried to help her with dinner. She didn't look up, or even glance at me when I appeared at her side, as if my presence were expected. On the menu for dinner was her special Chinese food, fried rice and noodles, with strips of grilled meat. It was the only dish she could best me at, and her competitive nature demanded she hold onto that title at all cost.

It didn't bother me, however. Rin allowed me to cut the vegetables and complete other menial tasks before pushing me away from the stove.

"It's my kitchen, you know?" I smirked at her, half joking, half testing the waters to see how much she knows. I remembered the dream cycle and wondered when Shirou would figure me out. Rin was much more perceptive, however, and would have likely figured it out by now. I could play it off as a joke if I was wrong.

"Ooh?" she said, her eyes playful. "Last I checked this was your master's."

I shrugged, letting the tension build between us before responding. "What belongs to Shirou is also mine. You know him better than I do."

"By that logic, this house, is my house." She laughed, and dumped the rice into a wok. The fire leapt from the stove and upwards, singing the air, but managing to avoid her glistening black hair. She stirred the rice as she dumped in the vegetables and meat. "And the kitchen is part of the house."

"Touche." I held up a bottle of oyster sauce for Rin. She reached for it, but when her fingertips graced the glass I let go. Her jaw dropped and she dove onto the ground to prevent it from shattering. I whipped myself around her and took command of the wok, just as the glass bottle bounced harmlessly against the tile.

She stood on her knees, by her hands, staring at it for a second before standing up. It didn't take long for her to figure it out. She grabbed the bottle and flung it at my head.

I grabbed it in midair, twisted the cap off, and poured the brownish purple liquid into the wok. Satisfied, I placed the bottle back onto the counter and turned the handle towards Rin.

"You're an idiot," she said, taking it from me.

"That I am."

She worked in silence for a few more seconds, sneaking glances whenever she believed I wasn't looking. An uneasy silence fell between us, so oppressive I struggled to find a smartass quip to it. The door to the living room slid open, and Shirou slipped into the room with a white towel wrapped around his head. He collapsed onto the ground in front of the television looking more brain dead than someone after a twenty four hour movie binge. Archer materialized soon afterwards. He sat down at the table, patient, even bored looking.

I made a coughing sound, trying to break the tension, but it didn't seem to work. Rin stirred in silence for a few more minutes before, at last, likely because she couldn't bear it any longer, she asked. "H-how," she hesitated, "how is his training coming along?"

"Well enough. He's coming along a lot faster than when I was his age." I remembered the way I absorbed knowledge from Archer. The sheer exponential growth of skill simply by watching him in my timeline. Being trained by me should accelerate it even further.

"You're not worried?" she said in a voice that sounded strangely familiar. It was hers, but somehow, older. She glanced over at Shirou, he laid on his stomach with his eyes closed. He appeared deep in thought.

I shook my head. "He'll be fine. I'm teaching him well."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"It's what he wants," I said. "There are so many things I want to do, to say, to teach, but it's up to him."

She looked over at Archer, then back to me. "I wonder if we should. He's learning fast, but between you, Archer, and me, we could continue without him."

I shook my head. "He wouldn't allow it."

"Yeah."

"I'm worried about him, too."

We stood in silence, letting the sound of sizzling rice settle between us. The savory scent of grilled beef wafted upwards from the wok. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting Rin's cooking. She scooped the rice into a large bowl and turned off the stove. As she began to walk away I said. "It's his decision. All we can really do is hope for the best."

Our eyes met, those deep blue irises reflected my own image back at me. She gave me a sad smile and nodded, understanding, and took the plate into the kitchen.


	34. Archer IV

Archer IV

What if all it took to be happy was realize that you already were?

I had once accepted power in exchange for eternal servitude after death and I had done so happily and with a smile on my face. I had taken this power, not caring about any eternal reward after death, but only in the belief that with it I could save more people in life.

True, I had held hope that my contract with Alaya would allow me to continue saving people in death, but the minutia never crossed my mind forever ago in the metal bowels of that nuclear power plant.

No, I was an idiot. How could I forget the smiles on the faces of the people that I had helped in my wanderings after the contract? How could I have forgotten the faces of pure exhilaration, the recognition that someone had come to save them purely out of altruism.

Those memories were lost to me in the fog of being Alaya's cleaner, but now I find myself in a peculiar position: summoned to the Grail War that baptized me in fire; summoned as the Servant of an old friend; summoned into a War gone wrong where every Servant was a variation of myself.

And through it all I find myself… content.

I let aromatic tea wash across my tongue before gulping the liquid gold down my throat. It was a favorite blend of his favorite teas—one that he assured me would be to my tastes—that he had developed in his long life.

I will admit, he was not wrong.

It is funny, really. I had absolutely hated this man when I first saw him. Every fiber in my being yearned for his death. His very existence was a mockery of my eternal servitude and suffering.

And yet I feel grateful to him now.

Grateful that in some timeline I was able to pursue my ideals without even a moment's regret in life or in unlife.

Saber said that he had personally faced down a version of myself in a timeline where the Grail War was not corrupted and, carried by nothing other than his own unwavering principles, not only triumphed in the Grail War, but caused me to stand down.

I have no memories of this. The memories of a Counter-Guardian are labyrinthine and murky. But I hope to one day see the Grail War that birthed this busybody with my own eyes.

As for the boy, well, even though his thickheadedness still grates on my nerves I can no longer bring myself to murder him. In fact, I feel compelled to teach him, to show him the contradiction in his ideals and to show him the harsh future that awaits him, but to no waver.

"My, my, Archer, if I'm not mistaken you seem to be smiling," Rin said as she began to help Saber clear the table. "I didn't think you were capable of anything other than a scowl."

My hand reflexively raised to trace the contours of my mouth.

A smile.

I was smiling like an idiot.

I rubbed my face and resumed my normal expression of permanent snark.

"Clearly you must be mistaken, Rin. I would never deign those two idiots to see me smiling," I said.

"Did someone just say that Archer was smiling?" Came Saber's voice over the din of washing dishes. He stifled a chuckle. "See? What did I tell you, Rin, Archer really can smile!"

I shot out of my chair as Rin fell into a fit of laughter.

"Please, Saber, I'm not like some sentimental idiot that I know. I am the epitome of stoicness, the embodiment of the Japanese archery arts. I do not smile."

Saber waved me off like I was some small child, eliciting a cluck of my tongue.

"Sure, you keep telling yourself that, Archer. Just remember that I know you just as well as you know yourself. You can't hide your humanity from me."

Rin began poking me in the cheek as my face shot red, her laughter intensifying.

"Awww, what's the matter, Archer? Are you getting flustered because you were accidentally happy for a moment?"

A feeling of contentment washed over me even as I sighed in frustration. How long had it been since I had been this relaxed? How long had it been since I truly felt like a living, human being?

Too long.

"I might as well go see what the boy is up to. Even he can't be as insufferable as you two are right now."


	35. Shirou VII

Shirou VII

Laughter filled the room. I sat, a smile on my face, in idle comfort letting the excitement in the air wash over me. Rin and I had been teaching our kids how to cook for weeks and we were finally going to get to taste the fruits of their labor.

She poked me in the ribs, joking about how I would finally be forced out of the kitchen after all these years. She leaned into me, humming a sing-song tune as she watched our kids work. I pulled her closer, the familiar smell of herbal medicines a nostalgic comfort.

Abby and Mal worked the kitchen like a force of nature preparing a mixed Japanese-Chinese menu for dinner, bickering between themselves as they ran to and fro.

I laughed at how much more expressive Malcolm was around his older sister. My normally reserved son exchanged quips and banter as the two worked, in contrast to his quiet introspection in public. Abby easily laughed them off though, a testament to her jovial nature.

There was a knock at the door.

I sighed as I untangled myself from Rin's arms and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

The knocking grew heavier and my footsteps slower as I approached the door. I called out, asking who was at the door but to no response.

I grasped the handle, a strange feeling of trepidation giving me pause, before giving it a twist.

Golden rays of sunshine peaked through the clouds. Fields of mythic weaponry embedded in the ground like grave markers to legends past glowed red-orange.

I stood alone on a hilltop overlooking this vast expanse, a stiff breeze kicking up rust-colored dirt. That was when I noticed footprints crisscrossing in every direction and leading away, no one path going the same direction. I turned around, the sound of crunching dirt beneath my boots, and found myself standing in one such set of footprints winding down the hill and into the distance.

Gallia traced my footprint with the edge of her sandal, mystified by the size.

I had tracked her here over many days, no small feat for a blind man, but I had promised her mother that I would see this through to the end.

"I didn't think that you were real… that Justice was real," the small girl said.

I smiled as I took in the sound of metal restraints clanging against the sandy dirt.

Moments like these were what fueled me, kept me going in face of this warped regime humanity now found itself trapped in.

"I can't wait to tell my mum that you're real."

"You should be thanking her. She was the one that approached me to find you. Now be a good girl and help the others."

The girl flashed a genuine smile and nodded her head profusely, before running off to join the throng of other freed slaves to help them with their restraints.

When the girl's dusty hair disappeared into the crowd I stood up and walked over to our captives. They did not hear me approach, my cloth-covered boots masking my footsteps. They immediately cowered in fear as I made my presence known, my features shrouded by the dark. I must have seemed the very image of a demon to them, filled them with a primal fear. They struggled against their restraints, yelling amongst themselves, begging for mercy.

No. No mercy. Only Justice.

"You will be a message to your masters," I said as a traced blade appeared in my hand.

I disappeared into the embrace of the shadows and then there were screams.

The cover of darkness was no definitive blanket of safety from someone that could use runic magic to augment their vision, but I had to try something. After all, to do nothing was to guarantee capture by Bazette. At least there was some chance of eking out an escape with this.

I swung from tree to tree using my garrote wires. It had been an arduous process refining my reinforcements magecraft to the point that I could dependably swing about like I was The Emissary from Hell.

The branch in front of me exploded in a burst of magical fire, ripping the garrote wire apart and leaving me hanging literally by a thread.

"You're too slow, Shirou. You'll never become a great Magus Killer like your father at this rate," Bazette's voice called out from below.

I cursed myself as I released the prana that kept the remaining garrote taught, letting myself fall back to the ground unceremoniously.

I had come here in search of Kiritsugu's past and I had found it in the Fraga clan, a clan of magi specialized in brutal combat. They idolized my father in a sense and I had found some form of mentorship in Bazette once she'd figured out that I was the son of the legendary Magus Killer.

But here I was sitting in the dirt like an idiot. A failure with no aptitude for magic.

I could hear soft footsteps approach, muffled only by the orange-red leafs that now littered the forest floor.

Bazette appeared, clad in her prim suit, and walked towards me.

"You need to work on strengthening the wires faster and more efficiently. You need to make this technique your own."

I sighed.

"Bazette, why are you even helping me? I have no talent for magic. All I came here for was information about my dad."

She laughed.

"Because I can see good potential in you, Shirou."

She offered her good hand to me, "Now get up. We have a lot of work to do."

She helped me to my feet as I worked to wipe the dirt and grime from my face.

"Thanks, Gray," I said, my voice raspy. "But I didn't think there'd be anyone else around here all things considered."

"…I followed you. On Master's orders," the gray haired girl said.

"Lord El-Melloi sent you? Makes sense that he'd want me under watch."

Lord El-Melloi the second had had his apprentices keep tabs on me ever since I had come to Clock Tower with Rin after the Grail War had ended, albeit never this overtly. Sometimes I felt like even Rin was secretly spying on me for him.

"Oh, do I have visitors?" A voice said.

Gray and I looked in the direction of the voice, her green eyes vibrant in contrast to the mute colorings of her cloak and hood.

"Who is there? Come out where we can see you," I said trying to look through the thicket of trees that concealed the voice.

There was an earthy laugh.

"Young ones, I cannot move for I am rooted where I stand."

Gray and I walked closer to the source of the sound, she placed her hand along its trunk as if trying to convince herself that this absurd situation we found ourselves in was real.

I lived in the world of magi and once fought in a war for the Holy Grail with phantoms of heroic spirits from the distant past, but even still a talking tree was just too much.

"As you can see I am but a humble tree my lady," it said.

Gray pulled her hand back in surprise.

"…it is true. I feel great banks of prana from this tree and the surrounding lands."

"Great banks of prana? You speak of me as though I were nothing but a storage device for prana. Though I suppose in ages long past I was known as a great magus, so from one point of view you are not incorrect. Tell me, why have you journeyed to these isles?"

My hand opened and closed as I worked the numb feeling out of the fingers. Why had I come here? I didn't know for certain. I just felt… drawn in this direction as though I were compelled.

"Ah, I see that you were directed here by the skeins of fate." The magus seemed to deliberate something with all the patience that being an aged tree afforded.

"You know, that young lady with you reminds me of something—or someone from long ago."

I looked over to Gray, a perplexed expression on her face.

"Oh don't be coy, boy. I can see it written on your face as clearly as a lord's words on parchment. You can deduce her heritage just as easily as I have. There is no doubt in the moss that is my mind that you deduced it the moment that you met her."

Yes… I suppose I had realized it a long time ago. Gray was… a descendant of Saber. I suppose that was why I had never really minded her presence whenever she was assigned to track my movements. It was like _she_ was still here.

The tree chuckled.

"Boy I would have you know a secret," the tree said, "I was once the court wizard of the King of the Britons. I told her as she lay dying and before she was reclaimed by the Fey to live forever more in the lands of Avalon something, to answer a question that burned in her heart in her final moments."

My breath caught and I stood wide eyed.

"One must wait continuously, one must pursue endlessly. Only then will you meet again."

Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I hate this.

Why had I bartered my soul for power? Why had I made the contract with Alaya?

I no longer knew, no longer remembered, no longer cared.

I was no longer Shirou Emiya, now I was nothing but a glorified cleaner.

I stood in the wreckage of the aircraft carrier, flames licking the metal walls and marking them black.

Who were these soldiers? Where were they going?

Were they good? Or were they evil?

I never had answers when Alaya summoned me to dispose of unwanted elements, beings that threatened the total existence of mankind. I only ever knew enough, had enough power to get me through the mission.

The ship was rocked by a secondary explosion from somewhere in its heart, knocking me from my thoughts.

I looked around, taking in the rows of dead soldiers that lay on the ground in crumpled heaps. Iron arrows and sword wounds covered them in some mad array of violence.

All my handiwork.

No more. No more, please. I just want it to end.

I can't take this anymore.

I need to find an escape from this endless cycle.

Yes, an escape. I have to escape.

I have to die.

But how do you kill an immortal counter-guardian?

Without a second thought I let myself plummet into the fires, bringing this mission to an end.

My body burned, magical vapors filling my nostrils with the scent of necrotic flesh. I touched the seething wound in my side, one of many that covered my body, and felt the wetness of blood on my fingers.

There was no way out of this situation, not this time. No miraculous escape, no timely rescue.

I spat up blood in the midst of a coughing fit. The corruption was seeping through my body now. I could feel it as it ate away at my mind leaving only pain behind.

There was a thudding at the door that led into the stairwell, a rhythmic pounding.

"Help! Is anyone out there!? The door is locked and we can't get out!" A voice screamed.

Survivors?

Surprising. The Shadows were often relentless when consuming prey, albeit these were pale imitations of the Shadows from the Fifth Grail War.

I hated this. I hated whenever a circle of Magi thought that they would play God and resurrect the Grail War in their mad gambit for power and prestige.

It happened far too often and it always opened old wounds.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, "I can't open the door for you."

"W-what?! What do you mean?! There's children here just open the door!"

I wheezed as I thumbed the detonation trigger in my hand idly.

"Can't open that door. Don't have the strength to fight off those creatures. They would get out. They'd kill everyone and everything in this city."

"You don't know that!" The voice screamed. "Please! I'm begging you to save us!"

A sharp pain in the depths of my heart flared, but I steeled my mind and killed my heart as I had done so many times before.

The screaming from the stairwell grew louder, more primal. I could hear the wail of children and the screaming of their mothers as the Shadows had finally reached this last band of survivors.

"You're a bastard! You killed us! You killed us all!"

I gave a dry chuckle as I stared out a nearby window into the wider world.

The world was white and sterile and glass. Empty as far as the eye could see. And beneath it all worked the gears of a machine that toiled with no true goal in mind, its dull thrums like a heartbeat buried and locked away.

"I don't begrudge you calling me a bastard. I most certainly am."

All of my sins had finally caught up to me.

"But the least I can do is die here with you."

I pressed the trigger.

And then the world was fire and darkness and dust. A baleful tower consumed the sky and its seething tendrils penetrated and tore through the ground.

I scrambled through decayed rubble and debris as the tendrils ripped the ground apart seeking me out. But with every step my strength disappeared more and more. My lungs burned and my limbs failed me. I tumbled down a mound of debris, kicking up a cloud of ash in my wake.

And then the tendrils reached me.

I screamed a silent scream as I was ripped apart piece by piece, shadowy viscous fibers injecting themselves into my veins and then stitching me back together.

 _I see you Shirou Emiya._

 _I see your folly and your hypocrisy._

 _All will become ash._

I awoke with a start, my throat dry and heaving. My head was a storm of pain as I cradled my it in my hands.

Dreams that weren't my own had invaded my head again, leaving only a confused and dazed feeling behind. They were getting stronger, more chaotic. Every emotion, every feeling of pain, every death felt real and those feelings lingered even after waking.

I got up to change out of my sweat soaked pajamas, the sound of my own heartbeat still strong in my ears. I opened the window and breathed in the cold winter air.

How much longer would this go on?

What was happening to me?


	36. Lancer IV

Lancer IV

Nostalgia filled my mind as I made the final rounds of tonight's patrols. The disappearances continued throughout the night, no longer the ones and twos of the previous week. Now they began in earnest. I walked past a closed business in the empty streets of downtown. Not a single soul disturbed me as I walked the beat. Not even a cop wondering what I was up to.

I walked down the street, stopping at an intersection. The hair salon from the previous night was gone. I walked past the empty storefront wondering where she could have gone. The "closed" sign sat on the door, but by the stacks of magazines on the counter it didn't look it ever opened.

I shook the conversation from my mind. Emiya Shirou, the name was familiar, and so was the woman. She stook a shining to me far too quickly, but I had to admit I liked her. I checked out the records in the police databases, turned out that Shirou kids was the Master I tried to dice up that first night of the war.

Small world.

The light turned green and I crossed the street, heading back in the direction of the church. I liked to give my reports to Kotomine in person. It gave me a bit of power over him, and besides, I prefered the walk.

But as I neared the end of the next block I noticed him sitting in the window of a restaurant. He sat, ever the patient citizen, appearing as priestly as his facade could muster. The waiter brought out a bowl of map tofu, and he made the sign of the cross before digging in.

"Guess I'll pay him a visit early." I spun towards the door and pushed into the empty lobby. The Maitre D' saw me, and hung up the phone. I caught the last bits of the conversation, something about a deal being revised.

His eyes drew a bead on the blue and green tattoos on my forearms. "I'm sorry, we're closed."

"What about that guy?" I jabbed a thumb over at Kotomine.

"Special guest. One of our regulars."

"I'm with him." I pushed past the man before he could protest. Kotomine didn't look up when I approached. Matter of fact, he looked worse for wear. Mucus dripped out of his reddening face, yet he continued to shovel more mapo tofu into his panting mouth. I pulled up a chair, swiveled it around, and sat in it like a petulant middle schooler. "What's up Mr. Priest?"

Our eyes met. He watched me with his oppressive eyes. Despite the carnage wreaked on his taste buds they stared at me with the same coldness. After a tense minute he spoke. "Do you want some?"

"Pass."

"I'm sorry, Father." The Matre D' was back. "This hooligan won't be bothering you any more."

Kotomine held up a hand. He waved the man off, and I couldn't help but smirk at him as he bowed in apology. He ran off without saying another word. Asshole didn't bother to take my order.

"Given that you're too busy stuffing yer face to talk properly," I said, "a simple nod or head shake will suffice."

Kotomine chewed on his food, tasting the contents of his meal. More mucus poured from his nostrils. At last he shook his head.

"Emiya Shirou, what do you know about him?"  
He cocked his head.

"Don't give me that bullshit." I leaned closer. The spicy scent of tofu burnt. "You haven't been playing by the rules yourself. I've been nothing, but a loyal servant. Got your reports and have been laying low. Now answer the question."

Kotomine paused. He chewed his food, swallowed, then nodded.

"Good." I moved onto the next question. "Can heroes come from the future?"

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded again.

"Is it possible that the nostalgia I've been feeling is just a coincidence?"

Shake of the head.

"Do you know who I am?"

"That depends." He broke the silence, touched his lips with a napkin, and tossed it onto the empty plate. "I have been following your dreams. Interesting indeed. Some parts are unfamiliar, but in so many ways, we're the same person."

I slinked into my chair, trying to come up with a response. A waiter brought out a class of water and Kotomine drank it greedily. He placed it back onto the table and the waiter refilled it. The process repeated three more times. "Why have you left me alone for the past few days? Doubt you just wanna play voyeur on my adventures."

"The disappearances are a concern. And you've stayed out of contact with other servants. Out objectives align."

I wagged a finger at him. "You don't give two shits about the people. The disappearances are too high profile, and bribes and cover ups will only go so far."

"Neither do you."

I paused. My body gave way beneath me and I leaned against the chair for support. A hollowness emptied from my gut. Snakes of uncertainty coiled around my heart, and squeezed. I opened my mouth to respond, but could only choke out. "Guess so." The hollowness remained, but the snakes disappeared with the confession.

"Why do you want to know about Emiya Shirou?" Kotomine smirked. The bastard was enjoying this.

"Because I suspect he is just like us."

"What makes you say that?"

"Did some research." I pulled out a manila folder. "Thirteen fights this year. Against bullies, all of them. Didn't want a reward or nothing from it. Got in severe trouble once or twice, but greased wheels by the Fujimura family keeps the cops out of it."

"Ask him yourself."

I pushed away from the table. "That was the plan."

"Then why tell me?"

It was my turn to smirk. "Wanted to see if you'll stop me." He didn't. Thought, I wished he did.

I crept along the high wall of the household, spying the interior and wondering what the fuck I was doing. The boundary field formed a clear border, and one misstep would alert me to his presence. However, it was stronger than the one I last remembered. Even had a feminine touch to it.

The lights from the living room leaked out into the courtyard, but no one was at the table except for a lone female. The girl who was Archer's master. I smirked, guess the kid's not doing too bad for himself.

Saber joined her at the table, and the two shared a cup of tea, their lips moving in conversation. I couldn't read it at the distance, but I sensed a familiarity between the two, far beyond mere allies.

I moved down the wall, searching for another angle, trying to find some way through. Despite having only been here once before the place was familiar. I could read the history of it, the feel, and it's warm nature. It was the comforting feeling of home, I was too busy trying to kill Shirou to notice the first time. Not a single thing was out of place, and I didn't question why I felt that way.

"We have enough strays to deal with."

I froze. The voice was familiar. I turned to see Archer atop the roof with his bow in hand, and arrow nocked and ready to fire. His red cloak fluttered against the wind behind him.

I stood, smirked, and brushed the dirt off my vest. "So there's the object of your namesake."

He released the arrow and sent it screeching towards me. I backflipped off the wall, the steel tip brushing slightly against the heel of my shoes, and landed onto the ground. I took off towards downtown.

But this time Archer was on my heels, his bow was gone and his twin swords in hand. I couldn't shake him through the suburban neighborhood, and remained close on my tail all the way into downtown. The city streets were empty once more, helpful at least, and I was glad of it. I rounded a corner into a dark alleyway and flung my garrott into a web of diamond filament.

There were two doors at the end of the alleyway, leading to different buildings. I destroyed both of them off their hinges, and and ran into the nearest one. It wasn't perfect, but with luck I would be able to shake him for a few precious minutes.

The first thing through the door were a flight of stairs. I ran up them, climbing up ten floors in a manner of minutes. I snuck a peek back. The darkness beneath me showed nothing but emptiness. Perhaps it was true.

But I didn't have the luxury. The door to rooftop appeared before and I burst through it. The meal frame slammed against the concrete wall on the other side with a loud crack. A breeze of winter midnight air sent a chill down my spine. And the city opened up before me. Blinking nightlights of a slumbering landscape lit up the darkness. More death, than, asleep however.

"So this was where you disappeared to."

I turned around. It was Archer. In his hands were his twin blades. For some reason I recognized them. They were familiar, speaking to me as they did to him. I took the brief moment to catch my breath, and drew my blade, there was no running away this time. The razor sharp wire of my garrott strewn between my fingers.

"Why did you return?"

I cocked my head to the side. It was an unexpected question, and one I didn't have the answer to. Instead, I smiled, and made light of the situation. "Figured I finish the job, ya know? Don't like leaving business unfinished."

"Perhaps." He appeared to mull over the thought some more, but then decided to drop it. I could sense the fighting spirit building inside him. This was a rematch, regardless of the consequences. "Let's finish this then."

He charged me with one wildly swinging arm, and I weaved around it. Prana coarsed through my circuits and strengthened my body. His openings were closed this time, and there was a different air in his tactics.

The blades returned. I rolled on the ground and swung up my wire. They wrapped around the black sword and I pulled it away from him. But then he did something I never expected.

Archer released his grip on his other blade and threw it towards me. It flung towards me. My eyes widened and my jaws dropped. I released my hold on the black blade and threw it off the roof. The white blade flew towards it like a boomerang.

But then he traced two more blades and repeated the action. He tossed them through the air and they flung around overhead. They spun and spun in their aerial dance, ready to converge upon me.

Archer continued his assault. He traced more blades and prepared to attack. A sense of dread fell upon me. I found myself backing up until I stood at the edge of the roof. This time, Archer had the advantage. Whatever came next would be the death of me.

The blades drew nearer. My legs froze, and my heart prepared to burst from my chest. There was no way out of this. Archer's next attack would kill me.

My feet nearly slipped off the edge, and the idea came to me. As the blade swung closer I went with the flow and fell off the side of the building. The blade and white blades crisscross just above where my head had been. The rushing highrise air erupted all around me as I slid down the reflective glass windows.

I dug my heels into the glass and followed the motions until I was running down them. The ground screeched beneath me and I turned around to face it. However, whatever joy of escape was eclipsed when a pair of swinging swords cut up ahead of me.

In the corner of my vision came a red blur, and it was hot on my pursuit. Archer was chasing me down the side of a freaking skyscraper lobbing swords at me. Boy would this be a story to tell Kotomine about later.

I swung my garrott towards my left and felt it dig into a panel in the windows. It pulled taut, and I followed the wire as it swung me towards it.

Archer was hot on my tails. He slid down the glass windows closer until he was right behind me. I released my grip on my garrott and twisted it around towards him.

The shimmering moonlight followed a trace wire through the air. It cut through the air and near and far to him. But he ducked and weaved, and went around it, and shoved his stupid sword at my face. I cocked my head back. My feet slipped beneath me, so I used the falling momentum to propel me forward. I threw my fist at the blade.

It made contact with the edge, and the black sword splintered underneath the assault. It cracked and disappeared into ether like our first fight.

But Archer was quick to counter me. He traced another sword and swung down with the white blade. I dug into the windows to slow my descent, the ground was growing near. The blade cut through the air where I would have been had I not slowed down. It slammed into the window and carved up a neat line before we continued our path and it disappeared behind us.

I continued my offensive, caught in this close deathmatch. I punched and kicked and weaved, but found myself much slower than I believed possible. Archer sensed my attacks before they came. This wasn't like previous where he had guided me. It was precognition.

He threw a blade at my shoulder, and it nicked a gash into the skin. Shreds of my suit flung off the fabric and fell by the wayside. I screamed, and slung myself towards the plummeting ground. Another blade shot at my midsection, threatening to slice me in half.

I threw up my reinforced hands meet it. The green leather gloves caught hold of it, but the sheer force still knocked me back. I flew backwards as I continued my fall towards the Earth. My grip on the glass windows loosened and I felt myself losing all control. Archer followed through with another strike, and knew I wouldn't be able to block this one.

Instead I threw my garrott towards another section of the building and pulled it towards me. I used the leverage to swing myself towards it, away as the black blade of Kanshou slashed up where I just was.

I swung away as best I could, gripping and pulling until the full force propelled me forward. The pained reflection of myself grew nearer as I flew towards the next building. I closed my eyes, embracing the darkness for a moment, and then felt a world of pain amidst the sound of shattering glass.

I stood there on all fours for a second, and opened my eyes. But in the moment, in the reflection of the shards of broken glass I saw. The reflection of Emiya Shirou staring back at me, that face of anguish and single minded devotion. It was only did I recognized his appearance as that of my own face.

So were one and the same. The revelation stuck me like a sack of bricks. That explained the nostalgia, the sense of remembrance everywhere I went, and the reason everyone kept mistaking me for me. A chuckle escaped my lips, and I didn't even mind the oppressive presence Archer was beginning to exert over the air.

I picked myself up and ran through the empty cubicles of an office building. I reached the other side, ran up the flight of stairs, and found myself on the neighboring rooftop.

From there I leapt to the next one, and the next one, until I was well on my way back to the Church. I gave my back a wayward glance, and was happy to find that Archer was nowhere in sight. It appears he had given up on the pursuit.

Resolute with my new understand I returned to my actual mission. It wasn't the grail war, it wasn't any of that bullshit. I didn't care for a wish.

No, this is my city. And I was going to doing everything in my power to protect it.


	37. Caster III

Caster III

I drew the magical circle in the center of Ryuudou temple. It was simple, nothing major or powerful about it. It's single purpose to pick up the magical energy nearby.

The monks at the temple were happy to see me. I put them at ease. They carried on their business without asking questions. I didn't have to do much to persuade them to help me in my tasks. Reikan Ryuudou was the most helpful of all. Perhaps he humored me, but he suggested the spot where I drew the symbol. I didn't need the help, but welcomed it.

Something was off. The monks were too placid, too accepting. I was a simple traveller, but they never asked questions or wondered what religion I practiced. It was like they were my servants. My minions. It was like I-

The veins in my head pulsed. Blood surged through my skull, threatening to burst. I gasped, grabbing the back of my beck with my hand.

Stop pretending, said the voices.

I ignored it and kept working. The pain in my skull never ceased. The voices kept whispering.

Keep going, some urged me on.

The plan is too important. I couldn't give up on them. Some said.

My hand shook, which thoughts were mine? They all sounded the same, the sounds mixing with my own. The voice narrated for me.

I turned back to my work. The circle was complete.

An etched marking of black and blue in the shape of a two headed bear. I stared at it, fixated on the scratches in the rock that made out its shape. I tested it. A small bit of prana jumped from my hands and dove into the symbol. The markings flared for a second, a blue light ran the perimeter at three hundred revolutions per second before fading away.

"Are we done yet, Caster?" said my Master. He stood besides the donation box, a few notes of yen grasped between his greasy fat hands. The sustainment of this temple was far from his mind. A box of money was just a giant "steal me" sign.

I ignored him.

Kill him.

No, I thought. I need the contract to remain in this world. I could not live without him.

That is not true.

You are a sorcerer. You know the true power.

"In due time, Master," I said. My voice did not betray the war raging in my mind. I spoke with calm, with an eerie echo. "My familiars have made contact with some of the other Servants last night. While they lived, my creations were able to wound their master." Even if he would be up and about in a few hours.

"Yeah, I'm not really following this whole Grail war thing anymore," he said.

I cocked my head. What?

Kill him.

No.

Maybe.

No.

"I figured this thing will blow over soon enough." He stuffed the easy cash into oversized pockets of his triple XL pants. "In the mean time, I say we kick back and steal shit."

Maybe.

"You are short sighted, Master." I turned away from him. The monks cared not as to what my Master was doing. Either they couldn't see him, or they didn't register his presence.

"And every time I try to do something you keep saying that!"

"We must keep a low profile," I said. "Casters have the weakest combat capabilities. If even one of the enemy Servants were to find us we would barely be able to escape with our lives."

To his credit my Master did not respond with some stupid retort. Instead he held up his hands. Two command spells.

Kill him.

Seriously. Fuck this guy.

My head throbbed again. "Argh!" I screamed. The pain was immense and I nearly doubled over.

Thier faces came to the forefront. Taiga, Rin, Sakura, Saber, and many others. Every detail, every wrinkle, freckle clear and present on their face. They looked at me, disappointment in their eyes. Why? I would join them soon.

Kill him, they chanted.

I can't.

Kill him.

I looked up at my Master.

Kill him. That voice was mine. I heard narrated by myself.

"Master," I pleaded, a tiny crack in the calm of my voice. "Do not be rash."

"Help me rob a bank." A flash washed over me. The compulsion pushed me. It drove me forward. I bid goodbye to the monks and walked down the stairs of the temple without conscious thought. I was a passenger in my own body.

Weren't you always? Another voice rang out in my head. All the others ceased for a moment. Silence carried the day. It was some comfort.

We headed down to the shopping district. The streets quiet during the weekday morning. But the atmosphere told another story. Despite the time of day it should be busier. A single man crept along the streets, huddled in his coat and head on a swivel. He snuck glances around as he passed, fearful and alert.

Senshu Bank was crumbling from disrepair. The years unkind as people left the city over the decade. Consequently they were unable to secure enough capital to stay afloat. Unfortunate that we would be the final nail in the coffin.

A plain dressed woman sat behind the window. Her salary not enough to justify spending lavishly on work clothes. She smiled as I approached her, her eyes darted towards my missing arm, but returned to my eyes. "How can I help you?" she asked, remaining professional.

I waved my arm in front of her. A slight twich of prana lept from the tips of my fingers. It was simple, no enchantments nor words. A slight suggestion. She watched my fingers transfixed, following them as I drew half a triangle in the air. With a nod she opened the safe beneath her feet. She stacked the bills on the counter and slipped them through the window.

It was a pitiful amount, no more than a hundred thousand yen.

Yet my Master grabbed the money with his grubby hands and stuffed them beneath the rolls of fat with glee. He laughed, yelling obscenities and rattling off the names of people who have supposedly wrong him in the past. For some odd reason it never occurred to him to be thorough in his crimes and the compulsion evaporated.

Control of my body fully returned. My Master busy ogling the woman between stuffing the wads of cash away.

Kill him. The voices returned. I could not tell what was worst. The voices or the compulsion brought forth by the command spells. The choices were all bad.

"Are you satisfied, Master?" I said.

He nodded with vigor, cradling the bills that could not fit into his pockets.

"Very well," I said.

Kill him.

"Let us return to the hospital."

I turned towards the door and strolled out of the building. Something felt wrong. Another compulsion took me over. The prana in my body felt low. Odd, I never had want for it.

You know what you must do.

I shook my head. The hard bricked walls scratched the stump on my arms as I leaned onto it. The pain throbbed again. Had my Master used another Command spell?

But he was too busy waddling down the street like an overstuffed pinata. In fact I doubted he even noticed my pain at all. The jerk.

My breathing slowed and I pushed myself off. The odd balance of my torso tipped me over, but I managed to remain upright.

Let's go.

I stook a single step towards my Master and paused. Why should I? The thoughts of murder flashed through my mind.

Not yet. I shook my head and walked back to the hospital, following my Master with reluctance.

We sat in the basement. The piles of cash sitting on the coffee table underneath the single flickering light. The moonlight shone through the window.

How odd. I racked my brains, trying to recompile my memories. The hospital was only a few minutes from the bank. But we walked straight back from there, right? No. Something happened. I did not just forget.

I headed for the elevator. Trying to think of an explanation. I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. My Master would be most likely be engorging himself on the free cookies and biscuits left out for the children of patients. In some cases the children were the patients.

Ding!

The doors slid open with a woosh. I struggled through the mass of doctors as I pushed into the lobby. What the hell? They crowded the lobby and flooded the hallways. Nurses pushed the sick and the wounded, some two or three at a time, on trolleys.

I examined the patients. Young, in their mid to late teens, wearing the tan uniforms of Homurahara Academy. They sat infirm, listless, with their heads hung low. No signs of life on them save for a pulse. Unresponsive.

"I'm sorry Mr. Monk," Doctor Tenma materialized at my side, "but we are very busy right now." He pushed past me as he ran between patients, diagnosing them with as much care as possible.

I looked over all of the patients. Noting to my surprise that my Master was amongst them. He laid in the corner, the beds occupied by more important people. I checked his breathing. He was alive, but in a coma. I grabbed his hand and turned it over. No commands spells. But the contract remained.

Something happened, and no doubt it involved the third command spell.

You didn't kill him.

That much was evident.

I shook my head. The thoughts rattled around my skull like marbles. No, the students, the patients needed care.

Rumors spread of a demon creeping down from the mountains and possessing the students. But within moments they were suppressed. Without any effort the story turned mundane. A gas leak. They were just light headed. Despite the clammy skin and the low blood pressure.

But I knew the truth. They've just been drained of prana. Most of them would not be long for this world. I stalked the hospital. Not much could be done for them. All I could do was give them the peace of death.


	38. Rider VI

Rider VI

I must kill him. I must kill him. I must kill him.

The words echoed in my mind.

Was there no way out? Would the summons and inbuilt systems of the Holy Grail, which seemed like an afterthought in my mortal life, now serve to trap me in my own personal hell?

No. I would not accept that. I will find a way out or make one. The right moment will present itself.

I grit my teeth as I followed Shinji through the streets of Miyama Town in my spirit form.

The fool wanted to arrange an alliance with the Emiya Shirou of this world, the Shirou Emiya that used to be me.

I scoffed.

His proposal would be rebuffed. In all the worlds of the multiverse, the notion of this vile snake allying with the empty shell of a man that is Emiya Shirou was an impossibility.

"Hahaha," he laughed to himself, "you'll see Rider. We'll get Emiya on our side! He's too naive, too much of a stranger to the world of magi! He'll be begging to follow someone who is his superior in every way!"

I responded with silence.

"What's the matter, Rider?" he said. He turned his head and sneered. "Cat got your tongue? Oh, wait! I get it now. You just like to watch things like a voyeur, don't ya?"

I wanted to snap every bone in his body and leave him to the carrion birds. I would start with the legs, smashing his ankles and shredding his achilles tendon. Oh to hear his pleas they pecked away at his dying flesh. But I suppressed the craving.

Kill the heart. Steel the mind.

The nostalgic Japanese tiling of the Emiya household peeked over the smaller and more modern suburban houses of Miyama Town.

A hollow feeling filled my soul. Like remembering an old friend that you had driven away.

"Hah! Here we are! It's been a while since I've come here," Shinji said, "still just as boring of an eyesore as it ever was."

Cowardly lies. You never had a choice in coming back. Emiya Shirou would never have allowed you to step foot in his home again.

He ruffled his curly blue hair and gave me a look of self importance.

"Watch the natural charisma of your Master at work, Rider."

I stopped short of the boundary field that Kiritsugu set up so long ago. Shinji's tan colored uniform grew distant as he strutted with his chest puffed out towards the entrance of the Emiya household.

My eyes narrowed. Killing him right now would be so easy. So easy to trace even the simplest of weapons and stab him in the back.

I cursed as the command seals that stayed my hands.

Emiya Shirou emerged from his home awash in the warm hues of evening and pulled a green coat over his shirt to guard against the sudden gust of wind.

Shinji readied himself to give some grandiose introduction. He placed one hand on his hip and raised the other into the air like some fop.

But, he froze.

Rin walked out and joined Shirou, her voice echoed as she complained about how no one in Miyama Town locked their doors.

Shinji stumbled back towards me before the two could spot him, his face scrunched in anger and disgust.

"That fucking bitch! THAT FUCKING BITCH! I'll show them! I DON'T NEED EITHER ONE OF THEM! I'M A GREAT MAGUS!"

He balled his fists in frustration as he threw a tantrum.

"I know what to do... I'll just show them how great of a magus I am. Then they'll beg to join me."

He cackled.

"And then I'll say no!"

He laughed at a joke that only his warped mind could understand.

"But what should I do?" he said. His eyes darted back and forth. He seemed to consider his options, tapping his chin as he walked the empty evening streets. "Caster... we'll go after Caster!"

"We do not presently know the location of Caster," I muttered.

He glared at me.

"Don't talk to me like I'm some idiot! I'd already considered that. Any Caster worth his weight would naturally set up their territory at a location of high prana. That means that the only place they'd go is the only place of natural ley line convergence."

His wicked grin grew.

"Our road to victory begins at the Ryuudou Temple."

He looked so self-satisfied, so smug.

I was unimpressed. All I wanted to do was carve out his eyes and set him aflame like I had in another life. This time I would watch as the inferno consumed him. I would watch as his skin boiled and popped as he begged for death.

My moment would come soon.

I only needed to wait.


	39. Archer V

Archer V

Dinner time at the Emiya residence was a quiet affair.

Was.

"WHY IS TOHSAKA HERE?" Taiga stood on the table, her fingers pointed at Rin.

I stood in the corner in my spiritual body. Both to conserve prana and to avoid detection. There was no point in me eating. Heroic Spirits do not need food to survive. Yet despite this, Saber stood in the kitchen frying salmon.

"That's because I'm living here now, Fujimura-sensei." Rin sat in her seat in the center of the table and delivered her lines without betraying emotion.

Taiga paused for a second, raised her hand, then dropped it. She turned and tapped her foot, deep in thought. Her face traded between five different expressions before she stopped. Resolved, she turned back to Rin, calm and composed.

"THAT'S EVEN WORSE!" she roared. Despite hating the nickname Tiger, she was fully living up to the image it painted of her. I almosted missed her antics as my irresponsible guardian. Her slow reactions to any revelations brought me amusement in hindsight.

"Well... uhm, Fuji-nee, you see-" Emiya Shirou fumbled.

Rin tapped the table to stop him.

"Please, Emiya-kun, this is my problem. Let me explain the situation myself."

Taiga paused, her mouth pursed. She sat down trading glances between Rin and Sakura.

"My house was destroyed by the gas line explosion last night," Rin said. "Shirou had been kind enough to let me stay here until I can find a more permanent solution." She crafted a tale of her loss. Everything was gone now, and all she had left in the world was her father's pendant. It was the truth, minus one crucial detail.

Taiga leaned back in her seat. Tears welled at her eyes before gushing down her face. "Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from Shirou."

"It's no big deal, Fuji-nee," Shirou said, "just helping a friend."

Sakura fidgeted in the corner of her table, looking away from the commotion. "Um," she said, "Tohsaka-san, how long will you be staying here?"

"A few days maybe." Rin wore a sad smile. She only looked at Sakura for a second before turning away. A silence stilled between the two girls.

"No!" Taiga slammed her hands on the table oblivious to the subtext. "You can stay as long as you want! This is your home as much as it is mine."

Saber laughed from the kitchen. He carried trays of rice and fish to the table. The ever present image of bemusement glued to his face.

"Saber-san, you will make sure that nothing inappropriate goes on under your care will you?" Taiga said.

"W-what do you mean Sensei?" Sakura blushed. She hung her head, staring down at her hands.

"Don't worry," Saber said, "nothing inappropriate will happen in the house."

Taiga nodded.

"Or in kitchen."

"Uh..." she muttered.

"Or in the shed. Or in the bathrooms. Or on the porch. Or in the closet..."

Saber paused, trying to come up with another place where sexual intercourse could occur. "Everywhere else is fair game."

"I WON'T ALLOW IT!" Taiga roared amidst Sakura's blushing and Rin's uproarious laughter. Taiga grabbed the edge of the dinner table. With a heave it lifted off the ground and landed on top of Shirou, pinning him to the ground. "You're supposed to be the responsible adult here, Saber-san!"

How ironic.

"How ironic," Saber chuckled. "Don't worry a thing Fujimura-san, I have everything under control."

Shirou pulled himself from under the table. "What was that for, Fuji-nee?"

Taiga stood up straight, chest out and proud of herself. "Consider it a lesson in messing with people at inappropriate times."

"But, I didn't do anything." Shirou started cleaning up the mess. Grains of rice clung to his clothes as he worked.

Saber smiled by the corner, overindulging himself in the drama. "We're just missing one more guest." He said as he uprighted the table.

Oh no. I knew he was an idiot, but there was no way he could be this stupid. Perhaps it is not my younger self I should have killed, but this one instead.

"Archer, don't be shy," he said.

Shirou, for all his idiocy, panicked. He stared at his Servant mouth agape, as if asking "WHY? Why would you do this?"

Even Rin facepalmed. She shook her head, not with anger, but with embarrassment.

"I am a man with a mission," Saber smiled.

Taiga looked around in confusion, wondering what the fuss was all about. She started asking questions.

Sakura however, sat in the corner in silence. Nothing needed to be explained to her. She knew full well who I was.

"Come on, Archer, be cool," Saber half begged. "You're making me look like an idiot."

I shook my noncorporeal head. This was stupid. And yet. I couldn't help the urge to join them at the table. It was a compulsion, an unnatural drive.

I stepped away from the dining room and returned to my physical body. My memory stretched back to something I had worn a long time ago. I eschewed my black armor and red cloak and instead materialized in a red vest over a white dress shirt, black tie, and black khakis. I sighed as a black blazer wrapped itself around me. I can't believe I'm going along with this.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath, and slid open the door.

Saber cheered. "I knew you'd come around!"

Something took over me. I stepped over to the table in silence. Something was off. Emiya Shirou was in my seat.

He looked back at me with his dull yellow eyes. A flash of contempt showed on his face. I see he had not forgotten our conversation last night. No matter.

I ignored him, and sat between him and Rin. An unworldly silence drifted between us. So thick not even Excalibur could cut through it. I looked around the room, gauging everyone's reactions.

Saber was practically beaming in his corner. What was he planning? To remind me of home? Foolish.

Taiga had her hand on her chin. Something was nagging at her. Though slow to start, Taiga Fujimura was more clever than credited. The tension perturbed her.

Rin on the other hand gagged. Anger seethed beneath the surface of her facade. At first she was only embarrassed for Saber's behavior, but now she was upset at me as well for having gone along with it. I'm sorry Master, but it seems the Emiya lineage is plagued with idiocy.

"What is for dinner now that it's all over the floor?" I broke the silence.

"I'm pretty sure I can throw something together real quick," Shirou stood up. He was trying to escape the awkwardness and I didn't blame him. Part of me wanted to join him in the kitchen.

Saber simply nodded. As much as he wanted to cook, he acknowledge his younger self's desires.

"Are you two brothers?" Taiga asked. She sensed the unease between Saber and I, but came to the wrong conclusion.

I snorted. "We share the same genetic material, but that is all."

"We don't get along," Saber said. "He is an evil twin though, so it's not surprising."

"That's sad," Taiga frowned, "brothers should always get along."

"I've been trying." Saber shrugged. His eyes closed and his lips curled into a smug grin.

Sakura eyed me from her seat. She looked back and forth between Saber and I when she thought no one was looking. I recalled that she was Rider's true Master during the Holy Grail War. This War's Rider was another version of me, that much I was certain of. It was only natural then that Sakura would make the connection.

"So when'd you get here, Archer?" Taiga asked.

I rolled up my sleeves to give myself a moment to gather my thoughts.

"Before Saber. I had some errands that I had to finish and was staying at a local hostel. My... brother neglected to inform me of where he was staying."

"Must have slipped my mind," Saber shrugged.

Taiga slammed a fist into the table sending utensils flying.

"No! No! No! That was very immature of you, Saber! Apologize to your brother!"

Saber's widened in surprise.

Oh? Not having fun anymore are you?

"Yes, why don't you apologize to me, little brother?" I mocked. "Apologize for all the trouble you have caused me."

"Fujimura-sensei... it's almost like you're painting me as the irresponsible one here?" Saber said.

Taiga was practically chewing on her shirt as her eyes welled up with tears.

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Guess I have no choice. I'll apologize to my more mature brother! After all, he must be mature for showing up looking as if he were walking in on a business deal!"

He stood and gave an exaggerated bow.

"I sincerely apologize oh great and powerful onii-sama! It was never my intention to display free will! This lowly worm now knows his place!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"Errr... Saber, I think you might have gone a bit far..." Taiga said.

Sakura, for all her dreariness couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

"Fuji-nee! If you don't quit troubling Saber-san and Archer-san, then you won't be getting any dessert!" Shirou yelled from the kitchen.

Taiga recoiled in shock.

"I-I'll be good!" she said as she slunk back into her seat. But Taiga didn't fully surrender. She kept looking between Saber and I, as if she just gained a new mission in life.

"Apology accepted," I smiled. For some reason, I was having... fun? No, that can't be it. But, for extra amusement, I also added: "People can only look away when faced with their own mistakes."

Saber's face scrunched up like he ingested a whole lemon. He stared at me with utter contempt while I smiled. The roles had reversed. "I'm going to get you for this," he crossed his arms and leaned back.

"And I look forward to it," I chuckled.

"Archer, Saber," Rin said. She held a neutral expression, but underneath the exterior flashed a malevolence far beyond this world. "Play nice." She spoke with a clam, eerie voice.

"Uh," Saber panicked. His jaw dropped before clamming up completely. He sunk back into his seat and hung his head.

What was that?

The gears in my mind turned as I processed the scene before me. Saber's interactions with Rin began to make sense. The way he always looked at her, the way he doted on her last night. The fool was in love with her.

"Perhaps it is not I that needs to be saved." I smirked, laughing at the revelation like my own private joke.

Taiga cocked her head, confused due to the lack of context.

Shirou returned with some thrown together stir fry. A motley mix of tofu and vegetables, served on rice. He placed them gently onto the table, wary, as if Taiga where to flip the table again.

"Itadakimas," we all said before digging in.

Dinner at the Emiya residence was a quiet affair. Saber sulked in the corner without incident. Calm fell on the table as we ate. I sat back, enjoying the meal in quiet. For a second I let myself forget.

It was a simple dinner. Taiga jostled for more food as Shirou gave oblivious comments to Sakura's increased blushing. The talks were meaningless exchanges, with no relation to the war. Nothing of importance. And yet.

I saw a face. Kiritsugu's?

No.

Someone else. Soft round cheeks, blonde hair, bright green eyes.

I let a subtle smile play across my face.

Arturia Pendragon.

It did not feel right for her not to be here.

I shook my head, returning to the room. Taiga devoured her meal and flopped in front of the TV. News of further disappearances, gas leaks, and some people were outright fleeing the city.

Saber pulled open the door and stepped outside to smoke. The soft scent of tobacco floated into the room before he shut the door. An apology followed through from the porch.

I got up, bound for the kitchen. My natural instincts took over. Shirou had cooked, thus it was my responsibility to clean up.

"Hmm," he said, his eyes narrowed.

I ignored him and began to wash the dishes, the cool water dripped down my hands as I lathered them up.

Shirou joined me at my side. We worked on in a silent, uneasy peace.

#

After dinner we discussed the plans. We would pursue Caster. My wounds were still healing, and Saber was in poor shape after his fight with Berserker. But everyone had been insistent. The disappearances pointed to one obvious source.

"Caster will obviously base herself at Ryuudou temple," Saber said. His use of the feminine pronoun betraying his inner knowledge. A burst of hostility came from Saber. His eyes flashed at me as if remembering something. Was he convicting me of some anachronistic crime? It dropped as fast as it came, but he made his point.

"Caster should not be underestimated however," Rin said, "what do you think Archer?"

The idea of Emiya Shirou being summoned as a Caster seemed simultaneously laughable and terrifying. Laughable in that Emiya Shirou is inherently a poor magus capable of only the most useless of magics. Terrifying in that if an iteration of Emiya Shirou were to truly specialize in those few magics we were capable in and coupled it with the inherent territory and item creation abilities of the Caster class... the results could be truly deadly.

"I agree with your sentiment," I said, "but, it is a much better plan than patrolling the city looking for trouble."

"And have you recovered from..." Rin looked down for a second, "Rider?"

I nodded. It would suffice. She was an excellent Magus and while not fully recovered, I was in much better shape than Saber, despite the shorter time frame.

"Let's go," Saber said.

We gathered our belongings and left at midnight.

Saber and I found ourselves standing at the bottom of the stairs without incident. I returned to my black armor and cloak while Saber simply donned his plate carrier and holstered his flare gun. It contained no magical energy, and I suspected he wore it more out of habit than necessity.

We strolled up the hill side by side, two pairs of Kanshou and Bakuya in our hands. They pulled at each other, their magnetic nature seeking out its counterpart. I held them calm and firm, relaxed.

"Stay frosty," Saber said, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

The temple crested over the hill as we approached. The boundary field felt stale as we entered. Rin shrieked as she passed through it, and cursed under her breath.

Alone in the center of the temple stood a pale figure. White and blue markings ran around his feet, etched into the rock. It shined amidst the darkness, illuminating the man.

White hair, black trench coat, red shroud around his neck.

"Rider."


	40. Rider VII

Rider VII

The killing intent slashed through me like a buzzsaw. Archer left his Master's side in a flash and charged at me with a undaunting malevolent rage. The hair on the back of my hand stood stiff as I traced Kanshou and Bakuya. They swung up, meeting with their opposites in Archer's hands. The clashing steel rang out over the rolling hills.

I tried to retreat, fighting our swords natural pull. They disengaged, and I put a few inches of distance from Archer before he fell on me again. My wounds were still healing, and I was unprepared for Archer's presence. Curse Shinji and his idiocy!

Archer kept on his offensive. He attacked with wild, but controlled, swings. In his eyes burned a raging hatred. Either he was angered over our first meeting, or because of what he saw in me I didn't know nor cared. It was only natural.

I ducked, weaved, avoided, swirled around the blades and blocked when I could. My intentional openings ignored, the traps bypassed. We were too similar in fighting style.

A rush of wind howled through the arena. The scent of tobacco filled my nostrils. I backed up, caught off guard, pain erupted from my side. Blood splashed through my torn coat.

Saber.

But this was not the Saber I remembered. He carried the twin swords indicative of Emiya Shirou. This war was going to be much more of a pain than I thought.

He hacked at me between blows, movements smooth, but sluggish. He let Archer do most of the work, forcing me on the defensive while attacking when too preoccupied to counter him. Tiny superficial cuts shredded my body.

I backpedalled, trying to initiate a fighting retreat. Bakuya swung downwards parrying Archer's attack. His elbow launched at my chest. I tried to dodge, but Saber slashed at the back of my head.

Elbow to the chest or death. I chose the former.

Kanshou flew outwards at an odd angle, taking my arm with it. It parried Saber's attack just as Archer slammed his elbow into my solar plexus.

"Ach-" Blood shot from my mouth. I staggered back, struggling to breathe as the wind fled from my lungs.

"Rider!" Shinji screamed, his voice showed no concern nor fear, simply disappointment. "What are you doing? Hurry up and kill them!"

Easy for him to say. He hid off in the corner besides the temple while I actually did the work. With luck Shirou and Tohsaka would take care of him for me.

A thought crossed my mind.

I turned by back towards Shinji just as Saber and Archer returned to the fore.

Archer swung at my chest.

I ducked under it and surged prana into my legs. I blew past him and drove right in front of Saber, Bakuya ready to strike.

Saber winced as my sword slammed into his chest, embedding itself into his plate carrier. He kicked at my knee, blood spurting onto my arms. For a second I smiled as Saber doubled back in shock.

Lights flashed in the back of my mind. A sharp pain erupted from my back. I rolled forward, the freezing wind shoved its way into my body as it ran down the line of my wounds.

Saber recovered. His copies of Kanshou and Bakuya chopped at my neck.

I twisted mid-air, blades swinging to block. Steel clashed against steel. Sparks jumped from the contact and splashed around the runes etched onto the ground. The light intensified as we fought. I left a blood trail as I slid against the ground.

Archer leaped at me arms held high. His eyes flashed with rage as he plummeted back to the Earth. Blue lighting reflected off Kanshou as he slammed it down towards my face.

I pushed with my leg and rolled to the left. The tip of my ear cried in pain as it was sliced off. A small loss. I steeled myself, kicked up, and sprinted like a runner out of the starting blocks.

Blood soaked my clothes, it seeped from a thousand cuts on my body. I shook as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Unlimited Blade Works busied itself stitching up the superficial damage.

Archer reappeared at my side, an unrelenting thorn.

I slammed my foot into the ground. Dirt and dust exploded into a cloud as we halted. Saber was still a distance away. I needed to seize the initiative while I could.

But as I attacked I heard the subtle woosh of flying steel. I looked above Archer. A pair of Kanshou and Bakuya twirled through the air. My eyes widened. I backpedalled as fast as possible.

Another copy soon joined it. They flew haphazardly, wild, all over the place. In a second they fell upon Archer and I.

Archer picked up on the strategy. He used his swords to direct them towards me. Crane Wing Three Realm. He rushed at me, ready for the triple attack.

Two can play this game. I fell back, the swords flew perilously close.

Kanshou and Bakuya left my hands, joining their copies in the air. I traced more of them, and set them loose. They sought each other out. A maelstrom of swords fluttered around. Confused and pulling at too many copies, the blades slammed into each other, exploding into ether.

But Archer was quick to adjust. While the swords flew around us he pushed through my defenses.

I tried to block, but my mind had been too preoccupied. His sword slashed upwards, cutting me from knee to face. Blood obscured my vision, and Archer seemed camouflaged amidst my red tinted viewpoint. I ran backwards, increasing the distance. In shock I traced two copies of Kanshou. It's blackened steel stained with my own blood. They pulled away from me trying to escape my grasp.

A flash of brilliance hit me. I poured prana into them and loosened my grip.

They flew from my hands towards the closest copies of Bakuya. Archer. Overloaded with prana, dangerous and broken, they sought him out like heat seeking missiles.

Out of reflex Archer swung his blades to block them. A flash lit up, and sparks erupted from the clash of steel. Prana discharged from the traced copies of Kanshou.

The Earth shook as they exploded. Black clouds drifted in the air. Silence permeated.

But I knew it was not over. Emiya Shirou is not an easy kill. I sprinted through the smoke, the shroud around my face acting as a protective mask. The clouds parted as I drew near, I could make out a staggering figure.

The hair on the back of my neck straightened.  
"Trace on."

The ground around me exploded. Shrieks of erupted steel and granite tore me asunder.

Out of the smoke came Saber. Kanshou and Bakuya at his side.

I tried it again, two copies of Kanshou flew from my hands. They seeked him out, exploding as they impacted with their counterparts.

Prana poured into my hands. Hundreds of copies flew through the air. They left my grip as soon as they were traced, pulled by their innate desire to find their other. Driven by a single goal. It flew with no regard for course, nor trajectory in its pursuit. Undaunting, with single minded stubbornness.

How fitting.

My heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. Adrenaline surged through my bloodstream. I moved without thinking, no plan, no course of action. I simply traced more swords and threw them into the ensuing explosion.

A red flash appeared in the corner of my eye.

Archer flew overhead bow in hand. Nocked was the twisted spiral version of Caladbolg. A smirk formed on his face as he loosed it.

I stopped tracing Kanshou and casted Rho Aias. The broken Phantasm burst as it impacted with my hastily formed shield. Prana tore through my circuits as I held it up.

Saber darted around my defenses as I blocked Archer's attack. It was a repeat of what I tried in our previous fight.

I dropped the shield and charged at Saber. A move born of desperation. Archer would not be willing to kill his own partner, would he?

The ground flew in every direction as the explosion reached us. My legs shook in pain as the skin burned off of them. The light enveloped us, and a burning fire crackled throughout the temple.

The world blurred. Ash floated past my vision.

I tried to reorient myself.

where was I? My back drenched as I laid in a pool of my own blood.

A black figure laid on the ground beside me. He struggled to push himself up, hacking blood. His hands empty, he moved away trying to steady himself.

I turned my head. Archer stood over me. Fire raged around us as well as within in his eyes. His lips curled into a cruel frown. The blades in his hands trembled.

"Archer!" Saber cried as blood poured from his mouth. He stretched an arm forward, trying to grasp at his partner. It was as if he was asking for help. But I knew that was not what he wanted.

"Spare me, Saber," Archer said. He readied his blade. "Would you save him too?"

"YES!" Saber launched himself up, blood erupted from his wounds. Kanshou and Bakuya formed haphazardly in his hands.

"Foolish." Archer slammed his fist into Saber's face.

But Saber didn't relent. He pushed forward, swinging with uncontrolled attacks.

Archer had none of it and shoved him down. It wasn't much, and Saber continued to push himself back up, but it was enough time for Archer to kill me.

The red knight turned around. Kanshou poised to strike me down.

I stared back at him with all my anger. This is not where I would die. This is not the end. I would continue my path, and there was nothing he could do to stop me.

Somehow, Archer sensed this. He knew what I was thinking, and he had only one response.

"Drown in your ideals and die."


	41. Assassin IV

Assassin IV

I stood in the shadows listening to Shinji's boasting. Within the confines of darkness I was invisible, a part of the world. A force of nature.

Rider's breathing increased. His blood surged through his body as concentrated anger coursed through his veins. The rhythmic heartbeat played to the chorus of singing night birds.

I sympathized with Rider's plight for having to listen to his snake of a Master speak. Memories flooded back of the Shinji from my own Grail War. Self-serving. Cowardly. Vile. He was the type of person that Justice finds wanting.

His putrid wails grew faint as he stepped through the gothic iron gates of the Matou mansion. The cold presence of Rider lingered for a moment, but disappeared soon after.

"Assassin," a voice said, "you are not unaware of my grandson's plans, are you?"

The putrid scent of death drifted by. Matou Zouken's question thrummed in my head, his voice rotten and ancient.

"The fool plans to negotiate an alliance with the Emiya child. He _will_ fail. Follow him and make sure that he does not get Rider-or himself-killed."

I wanted nothing more than for that to happen to both Shinji and my own Master. Justice would seek to punish the vampiric, swarm of worms that hides in the guise of a man and its vain descendent. However, Justice gives way to the desires of Emiya Shirou. Justice craves a darker thing. Justice gives way to vengeance.

I left without word nor confirmation, eager to distance myself. A life of crawling through the dark, while things that called themselves Gods lorded over civilization, commanded my body through the twisted maze of city streets. The growing evening shadows conducted me from destination to destination, like a railway in the void between light.

My senses touched upon a boundary field that smelled like acrid gunpowder. It was a half-forgotten scent of a time long gone. It smelled like Kiritsugu.

Shinji ignorantly stepped past the borders of the boundary field towards the Emiya household. His footsteps steady and his breathing calm with overconfidence. Not a hint of doubt could be found.

Rider wisely chose to stay at the boundary's very edge and wait. His Master soon stormed back, defeated and angry. I could feel the amusement emanate from Rider, as if Shinji's suffering was the first thing that brought him joy in a long time.

Shinji propelled himself towards self-destruction once more as his inferiority complex dulled what little reasoning he had left in his paltry skull. Convinced by what only he would considering a stroke of genius, Shinji committed to being the first Master to defeat another by striking at Caster. He did not realize the mistake of stumbling blindly into the domain of the Caster class.

The shadows shrouded me from Shinji's gaze as he stomped towards death. Rider followed reluctantly, but stopped. His icy gaze fell upon me, considering the shadows cast by trees and houses alike in the burnt orange evening light. His presence disappeared without a word.

Had he known I was hiding and observing them the entire time? Or did I feel to him as though a ghost, with only a tingle of the spine to betray my existence? Or maybe Rider simply did not care? Either case was doubtful. The shadows have always obfuscated me from the world.

The world stretched and changed as I swam through the spider web of shadows, intent on continuing my surveillance.

Shinji cackled as he examined the runes carved into the stone. An air of vindication flooded him. He considered himself victorious, as if he were some master strategist. But he was wrong. While the boundary field did not register my presence as I entered, I knew it didn't matter. Caster was not here.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs. The small touch of tobacco drifted by my nostrils. It appears that others had come for Caster as well.

"Rider," muttered the unmistakable voice of Archer.

Steel clashed against steel and the ground shook. The sound of spurting blood and screams rang over the rolling hills. Sweat and ash drenched the air.

The fight was swift and fierce, reminiscent of the raging "Gods" from my past. Such anger, such malevolence. The self deprecation of Emiya Shirou was a terrible thing to behold. Two pairs of footsteps ran away from the fray, no doubt engaging with the vile excuse of Master that was Shinji.

The Earth exploded. Charred flesh filled the air as a raging inferno crackled throughout the hills. All movement stopped. Their presence gone save the sound of pounding heartbeats and shallow breaths.

"Archer!" cried Saber.

"Spare me," said Archer.

A brief scuffle followed by a thud.

Archer's heart skipped a beat. Blood surged through his veins, the pressure threatening to burst from his body. His hands shook, but otherwise he remained still. A gulp.

"Drown in your ideals and die."

I sunk into the darkness. The fires around casted a series of interconnected shadows. Movement was instantaneous. My arm extended out from the darkness behind Archer, clutching Kanshou firmly. I slashed at his achilles tendon only to have him sidestep in surprise.

Archer turned, attention driven away from Rider. He struck down at my arms as I slunk back into his shadow.

I became one with the darkness and shifted behind him again. Kanshou and Bakuya erupted from the shadows as I launched myself at Archer.

He turned his head, attempting to bring his arms back to defend himself.

Bits of flesh ruptured as I carved the base of his spine. My toes dug into his back forcing their way into the open wounds. I kicked off and dove into the pool of blood where Rider had been laying in.

The shadows swallowed me whole, welcoming me home.

Archer's heart rate escalated, his footsteps became erratic, trying to predict the next strike.

I shifted away from the battlefield, and found a tree at the edge of the temple, sheltered from the moonlight. A dozen swords ripped from the shadows.

Archer cursed as he struck them down with his own weapons. I could feel it. The sweat trickling down his skin, the shallow breathing. He was afraid, even if he remained level headed.

But as fast as Archer was, he was in my domain.

I melted into the shadows, my body one with the darkness. Swords erupted from key points of the area, flying out from the darkness before I shifted to the next location.

Archer remained on the defensive, twisting around the hail of blades. He dodged when he could, but blocked when forced into it.

Footsteps above me. My arm erupted from the darkness behind Archer, Kanshou gripped tightly. He moved as best he could, but the flying swords restricted his movements. The sword ripped into the thick meat of Archer's calf, it tore through the muscle and stopped only when it cracked the bone.

I slunk back into the darkness. To be greedy was to invite death. The barrage stopped.

Archer stood on his knee, nursing the wound. He gasped for air, his breaths grew shallower and begun to skip. He was exhausted.

My voice reverberated from all the shadows. "Repent Sinner, and Justice shall be merciful."

"I have no sins," Archer said. Despite the exhaustion he forced himself up. He shifted his weight onto his other leg. "Nor would I force such a meaningless concept on anyone."

"Very well."

I rushed beneath him. An arsenal of blades formed in the shadows. They pointed upwards, dangerous and poised to end this. In a moment I would loose them all from below.

The sun ripped me out of the darkness. My domain evaporated as I was ejected from it. But the cool air indicated that it was still nighttime.

My ears perked, picking up a tiny sizzling sound within the night sky. A faint heat hinted at something floating overhead as though a tiny star had been birthed. I could feel the shadows around me recede, dividing the ocean of darkness that had aided me in this fight.

No matter.

I twisted in midair. Dozens of traced blades hung besides me. They scythed through the air towards Archer only to collide with identical copies. More and more swords formed around me and loosed towards him. He was weak. The wounds that had accrued during his fight with Rider and those that I myself inflicted sapping him of the stamina needed to keep up with my onslaught.

My toes tapped the stone of the temple floor as I fell to the ground. The shriek of metal on metal tore through the night air as I walked forward. It was only a matter of time before Archer succumbed to his wounds. Justice shall be swift.

I could hear Archer cave to his knees as the speed of his tracing struggled to keep up with my own. His breathing grew gruff, gasps of frustration labored. In my mind's eye I saw Archer close his eyes as the last of his blades loosed. You were weak not only of body, but of spirit Archer. You fight for nothing and that is why you have lost.

My arsenal of stolen noble phantasms screamed through the air-and burst in a flash of ether short of their goal.

"RHO AIAS!" screamed a distant voice.

Saber, preoccupied with Rider as he was, still chose to save his fellow. I applauded him. In any other situation he would be worthy of the friendship of Justice, but my path was set. Justice stops for nothing.

I could hear Rider cry out as he charged Saber, intent on taking advantage of his foe's soft heart. The magical presence of the seven petalled shield flickered. An uncertainty of the heart?

No. A strength of heart.

Saber was all but depleted of prana, yet persevered as his certain death drew closer.

The edges of the violet shield of Aias burst and fractured as my myriad armory tore through. My hands filled with the grips of my twin blades once more and I stood ready to charge through the invincible shield and claim the head of Archer. My legs tensed, my arms bulged. The outcome was certain. Archer would die.

Rho Aias shattered with a screech of frustration. Justice had come. The ground beneath me cracked as I burst forward...

...and stopped.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"


	42. Lancer V

Lancer V

This was my turf.

I didn't care how far removed from it I was, whether by timeline or dimension or whatever; Fuyuki city was my turf. I walked the beat down Yokkin street eying the nooks between various shoppettes and restaurants. The twisted maze of the Market district which I used to patrol where far too desolate for a Friday evening. People were disappearing.

Police reports remained scant, lots of runaways and moves, but they were shoestrung like a marionette by the Mage's Association. Entire neighborhoods don't just move. Six hundred people don't just run away in the span of a week.

I slid around into the back alley behind Firo's Butcher shoppe searching for clues. The dumpster was bare save for flattened boxes of top ramen and a moth riddled plaid blanket. Trash pickup is on Saturday. Two days of cutlets and ribs would spill over the top like the foam of an overpoured beer. Either business was poor, or the owners were gone. Guess I'll find out.

I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the back door. Prana flowed through my circuits as I conjured the image of the lock. A simple pin-and-tumbler. I pulled a pick and a six inch flathead screwdriver from my breast pocket and cracked it open in three seconds.

Dust swept across the floor as the door slid open with a creak. A dirty butcher shop. I'll have to drop this place a few letters. I crept over to the counter, staying low to avoid being caught by curious passer-bys.

Decaying unkempt meat sat at the bottom of the display, maggots bursting from the piles of sickly grey tissue. I'm going to have to shut this place down. F. Judging by the rate of decay this place had been empty for more than a month, far longer than I've been here. Whatever reason for Firo's disappearance, it has nothing to do with the war.

Shit. A dead end. Mysterious as it may be, this was unrelated. But, still, I should investigate. Whatever happened here should be discovered, people might be in danger. I moved over to the register, hoping for anything that could clue me in. A loose leaf binder hung just over the edge of the table, a dozen pages sticking out of it.

I opened it. It was list of purchases going back to 1995. I flipped through. The latest entry was just yesterday. Yeah, this place was rotten all right. This may not be related to the war, but something major was still happening.

I dug around the counter, scouring through the web of sticky notes and half crumbled receipts. All perfectly innocuous, just s dentist appointment and sales of chicken thighs. Nothing.

I walked back past cuts of beef and pork searching for clues, searching for any messages or signs. The gears churned in my head as something in the display caught my eye. I read through the labels: Pork tenderloin, spare ribs, beef chuck... I mouthed each word as I went along. The hamster wheel in my brain spinning round and round.

They don't sell chicken here, I realized. Most of the orders were for pork and beef, but only a scant few were for chicken. I went back to the counter and flipped back through the notes. I constructed a pile of receipts trying to decipher similarities between them.

The same names kept appearing, a start. I reached under the table for an address book. Perhaps Firo's delivered, it was a long shot, but it might work. To my surprise they did have one.

Tanaka Yoshi, 3391 Uomi Street.

More memories of my life crashed to the forefront. Fuyuki General Hospital. What business would would they have with a butcher shop? Unless. The hair on my back stood up as the creeping realization dawned on me.

I rushed towards the door, the dawning realization that I may have discovered some sort of trafficking ring settled in. Weapons and drugs. I prayed it was weapons and drugs. The things I would do if the product was something else was too much to bear.

A chill cleaved right through me as I stepped back into the alleyway. Prana bursted through the air afterwards like aftershocks. I glanced around, worried I had been discovered. Nothing. I relaxed and focused on the source of the pulse. Ryuudou Temple.

Shit. It just keeps getting worse. In my haste I had completely forgotten about the war! That pulse was a giant bug zapper designed to draw something in. I had to investigate, it might lead to the root behind the disappearances. Or it could be trap.

I tore out the strands of hair at the base of my neck, what do I do? Whatever was going on at the hospital was pressing, and people could die if I don't get there now. But if I find the cause of the disappearances and end the war I can save more people.

Was this just a numbers game?

I gave the butcher shop one last look, this would have to wait. The original mission was to find the cause of the disappearances, one ring no matter how large can't account for what's happening now. I pulled out my cell phone and sent an anonymous tip to the police. Something was better than nothing.

I kicked off towards the mountain, upset at my decision, worried that I had compromised my morals.

Magical affairs must take precedence.


	43. Caster IV

Caster IV

The fevered pitch of battle raged beneath me as I stared through the eyeless face of one of my ashen golems. My "skin" itched in discomfort. The drawback of direct control I surmised. I made to scratch at the itch, but stopped. The movements were awkward and slow; the body of my golem taut. Even still, its senses felt muted, as though I were possessing an echo.

My familiar heaved a dusty laugh as my bemusement flowed through the mental connection. Of course it was like possessing an echo. My urn held the echo of a dead world, and I was its keeper.

A dull blue sigil ebbed in intensity along with the intensity of battle. It was one of my own devising, the culmination of months of experimentation. Though, it was admittedly inspired by the old magics of the noble phantasm of the Rider of my own war, Medusa.

I remembered as though it were the fading vestiges of a dream. The crimson scrawls of the old tongue of the Age of Heroes bathed the walls of the school as though light were passing through a ruby. Bloodfort Andromeda she called it as Rin and I rushed to stop her before the students-

My familiar mimicked my movements as I clutched at my head.

These memories? I don't-

I shook my head in frustration.

Traced weaponry destroyed their cousins and fed the trap that I had set in place. Screams of pain and grunts of frustration framed the shrill cry of metal against the quiet of the night.

 _They are as ants, unaware of an existence so far above their own._

Yes, they do not grasp the underlying intricacies of this War. They fight amongst themselves as if they had any control over the churning machinery that twisted and pulled at them through this macabre dance. Each of them guided by their own misplaced beliefs to destroy one another. Each of them believing themselves in the right. How many of them have a wish? How many of them don't? Which of them knows of the malevolence that hides in the guise of a holy vessel?

A jagged smile scraped across my familiar's face as my thoughts overlayed the faint wisps of consciousness that still permeated the ashes.

None of them were qualified to win this war. None of them had the skill and willpower necessary to dominate the malignant tumor that had infested the Holy Grail. Their wishes would doom them to the same fate that had befallen myself.

They would not win. I would not allow it.

Only I had the determination needed to excise the cancer. Only I understood how to manipulate the Greater Grail. Only I had a wish pure enough to be granted.

 _The Holy Grail grants the wishes of those deserving._

Pain welled up in my arm, but I did not care. My focus was intense and unwavering as I watched the embodiment of paths not taken work to end the others.

Saber, complacent in his naivete that all should be given the chance at salvation. His ideals have been tested time and time again and have held strong, but he has not known true suffering.

 _He would break just as easily as you did._

Archer, lost and bound to the whims of Alaya. He seeks salvation through self-destruction, but does not understand that his soul is already lost.

 _He tells himself lies so that he does not collapse under the weight of an eternity of bondage._

Pain shot through my skull as a faint sense of realization shot through my brain.

Realization? A realization of what?

I clutched my head as the pain overwhelmed me for a moment.

Inconsequential. The contracts of Alaya are eternal. Archer was already lost, but my own wish could still be fulfilled.

Rider, an empty husk of a man not unlike my familiars. He believes himself trapped in his own personal hell, an eternal penance for sacrificing the one that he loved. He does not realize that the hell he is in is my own.

 _He must suffer more for his impudent assumptions._

The shadows themselves began to move as another Servant joined the fray. Assassin, honoring his namesake began to beat against the seeming victory, Archer. Was he trying to save Rider?

Archer struggled against the relentless onslaught of the self-appointed avatar of justice. As the white stonework of the temple was illuminated both by the blue of my own bounded field and the violet of Rho Aias I sneered.

There is no justice in the world, Assassin. You are being manipulated to my ends even now. You spent your life until your dying breath trying to embody a fickle concept and never truly learned one simple truth. The simple truth: There is only one sure thing in all the worlds of the greater universe, and that is the finality of death.

 _Teach him that justice has no place in the world._

Knowledge not of my own flooded my mind. I felt something in the back of my mind struggle and scream.

No.

No doubts.

Prana built up in the Ryuudou Temple. Even those priests that still remained would be able to feel it through their half-dead states.

Something laughed inside me.

A trap perfectly crafted for the broken entity that is Emiya Shirou. To stop what could be perceived as the actions of a Servant you would throw yourself head first into a suicidal situation.

The laughter grew louder.

That complex. The pursuit of a lie, the pursuit of a dream, the pursuit of salvation, of peace, it could only lead to ruin.

It took me a few seconds to realize that the harsh, bitter, and ugly sound, was in fact my own laughter. A hearty laugh ringing through the cold caverns that I had begun to shape to my own devices.

The trap was sprung. The beacon was an irresistible call to action to those who could sense its activation. I had succeeded in one masterful stroke. The souls of Servants would fill the Grail and my wish would soon come to fruition. No, I had succeeded when Rider had first set foot here. Everything after was an unstoppable chain of events. _I_ had deemed it so.

The twisted screeches of my ashen familiar was drowned out only by the metallic roaring of a mad beast.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

It was the beginning of the end.

Soon I would have my wish.

My hand raised up and traced the alien smile that had dominated my face, overwhelmed by a fit of laughter that came unbidden.

I want to die.

Please let me die.


	44. Saber VI

Saber VI

Archer forced me onto the ground as I tried to stop him from killing Rider. My body cried for mercy as I slammed into the cracked and torn concrete. Jagged rock fragments thrusted into my wounds.

"Ach!" I screamed. Despite my injuries my spirit never relented. I pushed myself up in a second attempt when a ghastly arm burst from beneath. The black blade of Kanshou hacked at Archer's achilles tendon before it disappeared back into the shadows.

Another version of me lept from the ground, striking swiftly before retreating into the darkness. The movements, the series of hit and run tactics. The way he clung to the shadows and disengaged before retaliation. Only one Servant can be described as such.

Servant Assassin.

This Emiya Shirou tread a different path.

Rider limped towards me, blood oozed from the cuts in his trench coat to form a trail in his wake. He held our favorite weapons at the ready.

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and held it up to him as a sign of good faith.

Rider chopped them in half.

My hand darted back, the air stung as it seeped into the wound. I kicked my legs back, rolling away from him. Kanshou and Bakuya back in my hands as I uprighted myself. My knees buckled as I steadied my footing.

Rider pushed forward. His attacks were slow, the accumulated wounds across his body handicapped him. Normally I could have blocked them in my sleep.

Unfortunately, I was in the same boat. Muscles fibers in my arms ripped at the seams as they contracted to bring my swords up to bear. It was like fighting through molasses. Every movement went at a tenth of its normal speed.

Our swords met. I grit my teeth. We pushed at each other, more to support our own weight than to attack.

Rider stared at me with his dead golden-brown eyes. Blood gushed from the sockets as they trickled down his face and dripped off the edge of his chin. His impression of Vincent Van Gogh was also impeccable.

We moved without conscious thought. A shock ran down my spin with every strike.

Rider winced as he moved.

Electrical pulses exploded my nerves as they ripped through my spine.

He hacked up blood between attacks.

This was not a fight. Just two half dead men slapping at each other.

He swung at my face.

Kanshou floated upwards to smack at the opposing blade. My arm shook as I parried the blow.

I snuck a peek at Archer's fight. He was losing. Swords pinned him down as they shot from every direction. Assassin flanked him as his movements were restricted, and carved out a chunk of his calf.

The gears in my head turned. I experienced this fight before during my missions with PISCES. A monster capable of blending into the darkness to obfuscate himself from the world. Assassin would utilize the shadows as a network to travel between key point to strike at his enemies.

"Repent, Sinner, and Justice shall be merciful," echoed the darkness.

Rider and I held each other at a stalemate. No one could move away without the other getting in a hit. But the only way to defeat the shadow was to destroy its hiding place. Archer needed help.

Bakuya disappeared as I reached for the flare gun holstered at my hip.

Rider leaped at me in slow motion.

My shoulders shook as I willed them to move. The ligaments snapped off the bone as I bent my elbow. The bones in my hand grated at each other with every movement.

Rider's arm fluttered by, inching towards me. Bakuya hovered above my face.

I swung my left arm up as my other hand grasped the flare gun. My fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol and my index rested on the trigger guard. With the remaining strength in my body I pulled the weapon from its holster and held it up high. My forefinger tapped the trigger and squeezed.

The red hot flare shot out from the end of the barrel. It arced overhead, consuming the shadows in its wake.

Assassin grunted as he was ripped from the shadows.

Rider's first attack was parried, my sword knocking it away from my face. But his second attack followed up.

I was too slow. The nerves in my left arm erupted as they kicked into overdrive. Reflex took over and as the signal exploded to my spine and back. My arm moved on its own, barely knocking Kanshou away from my face.

Close, but no cigar.

His sword gnawed at the bones in my hand. In one swift motion Rider removed my two lower fingers just above my wedding ring. They fluttered in midair before tumbling onto the ground.

I dropped the flare gun and traced Bakuya. It dragged my arm with it as it blocked another attack. The sparks leaped from the clash of steel and kissed my face.

Rider kept up the offensive. He took advantage of my weakness and positioned himself on my left side.

Every block rattled me as I tried to hold onto the blade with only three fingers. I was forced to defend myself by moving Bakuya at an odd angle across my chest. I could feel my prana reserves bottoming out. Healing slowed to a crawl, not even the superficial cuts closed.

Blades exploded around us as we fought. I turned with every attack to reorient myself so that Rider would face my right side. However, he was relentless, and faster than I was.

The world spun as I kept trying to reposition myself. Knots formed in my stomach as the urge to vomit blood rose.

I heard a thud. Archer collapsed onto his knees behind Rider. Archer hung his head as his eyes began to close. A storm of blades howled through the air as they flew inbound on his position.

Rider charged at me again.

Too fast. No chance for deliberation. Only a gut instinct. Me? Or Archer?

I smiled faintly.

As if I would have chosen anything else.

I held up my right arm. "RHO AIAS!"

The seven petals surged open in the distance. Assassin's swords exploded as they flew straight into my shield. All of the prana I had left in my body poured into it.

My mind blanked as the world began to darken. I could feel myself bottoming out. Rho Aias flickered as I began to run dry.

Pain ripped apart my chest.

I looked down. Kanshou pierced me just below the heart. Blood trickled down the blade and dripped onto the ground.

My knees buckled as I fell onto them.

Strength drained from my body. Rho Aias shrieked as it shattered.

Rider disappeared from the corner of my vision.

The pain began to dissipate as a warmth overtook me.

I felt calm, like everything was okay. My eyes shuttered as the world darkened. Time to...

NO!

I shook my head. This is not the end! I still have more to do!

My muscles shuttered as I pushed myself up. Pain ripped through my knees as they begged for mercy. Sheer willpower was the only thing keeping me going. I felt no pain.

I grasped at my missing fingers and slipped off my wedding ring. A coat of blood seeped between the engravings and inset rubies, tarnishing its silver shine with a coat of crimson. I wiped it off and held it in front of my face.

Despite the exhaustion, I smiled.

I promised her.

I wasn't going to give up.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"


	45. Interlude VI

Interlude VII

"Papa, I wanna eat at that one!"

Abby rocked back and forth on her legs excitedly, Malcolm hanging on to her hand for dear life, and pointed at a family restaurant.

It had been a while since the Tohsaka household had last eaten out. I had always preferred cooking for everyone, a habit that I had never been able to and never intended to break, but between my work with PISCES and Rin's professorship at the Clock Tower we often found ourselves having to rely on the benevolence of Luvia's caretaking staff more often than not. And between my own personal addiction to cooking and outside help, we just never found much need or opportunity to eat out—not to mention our personal dislike for the British palette.

"Your mom still has business with the Church Supervisor, so I don't see why we can't stop here for a bite. Remember though, we'll be staying at my childhood home and Fuji-nee will be eating dinner with us. So don't order anything too heavy."

The two nodded their consent and shot towards the restaurant, Abby's pigtails flailing wildly.

I brushed back shaggy ginger hair as I followed them, the sign proudly hung over the entrance growing in view.

I blinked at the red and white lettering and the white spoon and fork logo, recognizing it from long forgotten memories. If I remembered correctly it was a chain restaurant that was very popular before I had left with Rin for the Clock Tower.

So, these were still around?

Abby and Malcolm beamed as we stepped through door, a chime announcing our entrance, and the floor staff energetically welcomed us into the restaurant.

"Table for three, non-smoking please," I said to a brown haired staffer that stood in front of the register.

"Party of three, non-smoking. Yes, right this way, sir!" The waiter said as he took us to our table, a booth next to a window that looked out at the street.

Abby and Malcolm settled into their seats with a pomf and instantly began flipping through the kids' menu, golden brown and piercing blue eyes intensely scrutinizing pictures of the menu items.

"Would you like anything to drink?" The waiter asked.

"I'll just have green tea please," I said.

"And for the young sir and miss?"

"I want green tea too!" Abby said immediately.

"Same!" Malcolm said.

"My, they have very mature tastes for their age." The waiter said.

"I wanna be like dad and mom!" Abby said, her hands shooting into the air at her declaration.

Malcolm vigorously nodded in support.

"So cute!" The waiter said, his face the vision of contentment, before excusing himself as he went to retrieve our drinks.

I rubbed my chin as he disappeared into the back and turned to look through the window as Abby and Mal busied themselves with the merits of one menu item over another.

There was always something calming about the hustle and bustle of Fuyuki versus London, but the feeling was more intense at this moment. Today I was returning to Fuyuki not as a combatant in another conflict, but as the father of two brilliant children and husband to a wonderful wife.

I glance back as Abby places a hand on her hip and begins to lecture her brother about the finer points of Japanese culture that she had read about. I remember a younger Rin in the movement, a headstrong girl that fourteen years ago made a promise to make a selfish, hypocrite of a man love himself. We've been through Hell together as I selfishly walked my path in life, but being able to see these two children in front of me I am eternally grateful that Rin never gave up on me.

The sound of porcelain teacups being set on the dark wooden table breaks me from my reverie.

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

"Nothing for me, thanks. Abby, Malcolm are the two of you ready?"

The two nodded and quickly pointed out their orders to the young man.

"One A set and one D set. Just to let you know we're having a promotion where kids under 10-years-old get a complimentary fruit gelatin cup and cookie. I'm sure that-," the sound of shattering plates from the back of the restaurant interrupted him, "I'm sorry, I have to go deal with our trainee. I'll return shortly with your orders!"

The waiter stormed off to deal with one of the other employees, leaving us there to entertain ourselves.

"So, what do the two of you think of Fuyuki so far? A bit different from London, isn't it?"

Abby nodded her head sagely.

"I like it 'cause it doesn't feel crowded like London and it's always sunny!" She said energetically.

I chuckled.

"Believe me, Japan gets it fair share of rain too, but Fuyuki definitely is not as busy a city as London. But it definitely still has its charm despite not having something like a Trafalgar Square or Apple Market," I reached out and ruffled Malcolm's raven-black hair, "what do you think, Mal?"

Malcolm's hands covered his head and covered it defensively, eyes staring up at me in deep thought at the question.

"Like it 'cause it's where papa grew up."

He jumped as Abby's arms engulfed him from the side, hugging him affectionately.

"That's right! That's right! Mama and papa grew up here, so it's already better than London!"

Malcolm resigned himself to the role of his sister's hug pillow as she began asking questions in rapid fire succession.

"Papa, what was it like growing up in Japan?"

"What's Fuji-nee like? Nishishi~ she sounds like a tiger!"

"Papa, how did you and mama meet?"

Abby was enraptured with being able to hear another batch of stories from when I was younger, kicking her legs contentedly as she let out a trill of excitement. Malcolm, to his credit, seemed to relax into his sister's hold and sat just as enthralled as his sister.

There we sat as Abby and Malcolm moved me from memory to memory. To be honest, I was always surprised at how engrossed they could get in Rin and my stories. Certainly, from a certain perspective they sounded like something out of a manga, but the kids were just as interested in the mundane elements of our lives growing up in Fuyuki as they were in our early days in the Clock Tower and our travels abroad. They never missed an opportunity to hear another one of our stories, even going so far as having us tell them as bedtime stories when we could.

"Sorry for the wait! Here is you're A set," the waiter said as he set tomato fried rice in a small ornamented red and black bowl, with a side of fried chicken and omelet rolls in front of Abby.

"And here's your D set," he said as a more childish spaceship-shaped dish with fried prawns, French fries, dory fish and a mini udon side found its way in front of Malcolm.

"If there's anything else please feel free to ask," the waiter said as he handed the two their free gelatin cups and cookies and left to attend to another table.

I could see their faces brighten with the sheer novelty of the presentation.

"Well, go ahead and dig in you two," I said as I picked up my cup of tea.

"Itadakimasu!" The two said in unison.

I took a sip as my kids began to dig into their lunches, swishing the liquid in my mouth as my mind went to work figuring out how I might approach replicating their meals in my own kitchen domain.

"Is it good?" I said.

"Mmmn!" Abby affirmed. "But it's not as good as papa's cooking!"

"Oh? I'm getting fired up!" I said. "I'll have to try extra hard cooking dinner tonight to match your expectations then!"

Lunch passed without incident and I could see the telltale signs of sleepiness on my children's faces.

"How about we wash up and get going then?" I said.

The two nodded sluggishly.

"Right." I checked my pockets to make sure that I had not left anything behind and we stood up from our seats, making our way towards the washroom in the rear of the restaurant.

A short waitress happily waved at Malcolm as we walked by, causing his face to redden.

Just as we approached the washroom door a familiar person emerged from a back room. His hair was straightened out instead of curled like seaweed, but he was unmistakable even in his chef's attire.

We looked at each other in surprise.

"Shinji?"

Abby and Malcolm peeked out from behind my legs. Malcolm tugged at my pant leg and asked if this stranger was someone that I knew.

Shinji's shock was brutally interrupted as he stumbled forward with heavy steps, a young girl with long purple hair tightly cling to his back.

"A friend! A friend!" The girl laughed as she addressed Shinji with a different name. "A peek into your secret life! I'm excited, my heart is beating so fast at this sudden daytime drama-like development!"

Shinji span around yelling for the girl to get off, causing the girl's legs to helicopter in the air. However, the commotion brought even more unwanted attention.

In short order, a ginger-haired girl and our waiter from before appeared from what must have been the break room asking what was going on. I turned my head in the direction of a yelp as the short girl from before rounded the corner asking what was going on.

I blinked away the surprise as Shinji tried to gain some semblance of control over the situation. As he pried the young girl from his back he turned towards me and said, "N-no you've got it wrong. He's just an acquaintance!"

"An acquaintance? That's a cold reaction to an old friend," I said.

The assembled crowd gasped at what I said.

 _No way, he had friends?_

 _He must be a lot older than I thought he was!_

 _He's not as shady as I thought he was if he had friends all along._

The gathered restaurant employees vocalized their surprise in front of Shinji, seemingly not caring that he stood only a few feet away from them. A look of exasperation crept its way onto his face as he gave up his struggle, the girl tightening her hold as he stood in defeated.

"Hello, my name is Shirou Tohsaka. He and I go back quite a bit," I said, making sure not to use Shinji's actual name. "Actually I wasn't expecting to run into him here at all. I hope I'm not causing too much of a commotion."

"Not at all! We're just surprised that someone that knows him outside of work would actually show up here!" Our waiter from before said.

I chuckled.

"Actually, I moved to the United Kingdom not too long after high school. My family and I are just here on vacation, so this is mostly just a coincidence."

Abby and Malcolm stepped out from my shadow and politely introduced themselves to the assembled employees.

A creepy but non-threatening look of euphoria overtook the waiter. The ginger-haired girl immediately moved to restrain him before he could do something that might get him arrested as if this was an everyday occurrence.

"It would be too sad if you were to pass through without getting a chance to talk with your friend!" the short waitress said. "We can keep an eye on your kids in the breakroom while you two catch up!"

"I suppose that would be okay, but I wouldn't want to disrupt your work," I said.

"T-that's right! It's busy right now, so I'll just have to see if I can get a hold of Tohsaka-san before he goes back to the UK instead!" Shinji said.

The short haired girl gave a laugh as she haughtily placed her hands on her hips.

"As your chief I give you permission to take a break!"

"It's been a while, hasn't it Shinji?" I said.

His lips parted in a dull smile.

"It certainly has, Emiya… no it's Tohsaka now I suppose. It's been, what, going on four years now?" Shinji said.

"Yeah, I think you said you were going to see the world, get a little bit of space between yourself and Fuyuki. Thought you'd wander a little further than the edge of the city," I said.

Shinji threw his hands up defensively.

"I did. After four years ago-after Sakura and dismantling the Greater Grail, I wandered all over. The Matou family may have been a dying magus family, but they were still well off financially you see. But in the end I still came back here-came back home."

"Home, huh?"

A heavy silence weighed over us. Four years ago he was so determined to leave all of this, leave the dark legacy of his family and the hurt of losing someone he had grown to truly care for behind. A deep scar was left in the hearts of those of us present in the caverns that housed the Greater Grail four years ago, one that left its mark on all involved—including a certain seaweed-headed pariah-turned-ally.

"So, I see that you're going by a different name now."

"It just sort of stuck after a while. I know I used to parade the Matou name around like some mark of royalty before, but I don't have any particular attachment to it nowadays."

Shinji leaned against the wall and gave a tired sigh.

"A lot has certainly happened, but I'm happy now all things considered."

"You sure have grown up a lot, Shinji."

"I don't want to hear that from one of my old classmates," he grimaced.

I could hear Abby and Malcolm excitedly talking with the restaurant staff in the breakroom. It sounded like a happy commotion, the staff enthralled with the fact that I was a friend of Shinji's and my children taking the opportunity to extol my abilities as a father. They even started sharing stories about Rin and my exploits abroad. The restaurant staff gushed even more, but more so about how "creative" and "adorable" their imaginations were.

"Your kids have the magnetism of their mother, I see," Shinji said, "speaking of which, where is Mrs. Tohsaka?"

I pointed a finger at my face as if to say 'right in front of you'.

"Very funny, Mr. House Husband, but I meant your wife."

"She should be taking care of Fuyuki Administrator duties with Caren right now. That's why I'm out here with the kids, just killing time until dinner."

"Ah, so you were telling the truth. The husband is at work while the wife takes care of the kids."

I gave him a smirk.

"Careful, if you keep pushing your luck I might just decide to start telling your co-workers stories about you from high school."

In an instant sweat began to drip down Shinji's forehead.

"E-eh, please don't do that. I have a reputation for aloofness that I'd prefer to keep intact."

I laughed.

"You really have changed. It used to be that you couldn't help but to be the center of attention."

"I've found that it's much more fun to watch from the sidelines."

"More fun or safer?"

"A bit of both I suppose."

He leaned against the wall, his gaze settling on the ground.

"While I travelled around I didn't exactly form many human connections. I just sort of… drifted from place to place. It wasn't until I came back to Fuyuki and took and started part-timing here that I felt that I could open up a bit more."

"They must be good people."

Shinji patted out the wrinkles in his chef's uniform and straightened his posture.

"The best people. I've had more fun with them and felt more alive than I have in years."

He told me about his daily life here at the restaurant, about the friends he'd made, and the things he's experienced. All of his words felt genuine, there was no hubris there. They were the words of a person that felt completely content with where he was in life.

I was glad that he of all people could find his peace, especially after what he had gone through to help us four years ago. It may not have been the storybook ending that we had struggled for, but he came through for us when so many others had abandoned us and should be allowed to hold his head up high.

A flash of purple appeared around the bend of the hallway before quickly pulling itself back. So we have an eavesdropper do we?

"So, I couldn't help but notice that you seemed pretty close to that girl that was holding on to your back," I said ignoring our new guest.

"Ah yes, she attached herself to me a little while after she started working here. Seems to view me as a brother figure, so I sort of grew into the role. She had family problems that the staff here and I helped her get through."

A purple-haired girl with family problems that Shinji treats like a little sister? I nodded my head in understanding as the pieces fell into place. In the end Shinji had found his peace in a place not unlike where I had: family.

"Well, I should probably get going. The missus will probably be waiting for us and I'm eager to step back into my old kitchen," I said as I stifled a yawn, "you know, you're welcome to join us for dinner."

He waved his hands to dismiss the invitation.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to pass. You should be spending time with your family, not trying to entertain someone like me."

I shrugged as we made our way to the breakroom to grab Abby and Malcolm. Excitement built in the pit of my stomach as I pictured the feast that I was going to prepare tonight and the look on Fuji-nee's face when I introduce Abby and Malcolm to her.

We stopped as the purple-haired girl blocked our path, a knowing smirk on her face.

"I know your secret!" She said with a giggle.

She ran into the breakroom with childish glee as Shinji half-heartedly tried to stop her, only moving a few steps. He gave a sigh, but not of irritation but of mirth.

"I truly and honestly wish that these peaceful days could continue forever," Shinji said quietly.


	46. Rider VIII

Rider VIII

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

The amber eyes of Emiya Shirou shone through the shadows cast by the pointed tip of his weathered helm. His wild snarl muffled by a tarnished mail mouth cover.

More beast than man.

Berserker grasped at his terrible weapon as he stood at the edge of the temple. A gigantic broadsword held firm between his gauntleted hands. Power radiated from its cracked surface, casting a pressure that I could feel despite the distance.

Illyasviel von Einzbern stood by his side, a terrible smile crept from beneath her innocent face. "Good evening," she said as she mocked a curtsy. "Excuse my intrusion."

She noticed my stare almost immediately and gave me a playful laugh. I could not help but to be drawn to her blood red eyes. Filled with malevolence and rage, there was a scorn held within them, something that spoke out against my very nature. And behind that they seemed lit by a spark of total comprehension as to the nature of the Servants arrayed before her. Something I didn't notice when I was too busy trying to kill her.

She knows.

She knows who I am. Who we all are.

I kicked myself.

Of course she knows.

The dream cycle does not lie.

I glanced at Archer, who had forced himself up. He favored his left leg, the other wounded in his fight with Assassin. Kanshou and Bakuya formed in his hands as he readied for another fight.

Archer looked at me. Our eyes met.

I nodded.

He grunted as he turned his full attention back towards the armored behemoth.

Our quarrel could wait. If Berserker was not dealt with we would all die.

Prana poured into my left hand as I traced Kanshou. Its predecessor still firmly embedded in Saber's chest. He struggled to right himself, defiant, still trying to play the hero. Weakling, he could never truly make the sacrifices demanded of a hero. He could never understand.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!" Berserker roared. The joints of his armor creaked as he readied his mighty broadsword. A tremor ran through Berserker's body and the ground beneath him splintered.

I tensed.

A sound like an explosion resounded throughout the temple grounds as Berserker charged, howling in his mad voice.

The flare that Saber had fired into the air slowly plummeted back to Earth and returned the twisting lines of interconnected shadows back to their places.

Assassin clicked his tongue and sunk back into the shadows that had borne him as Berserker overtook his old location.

Berserker's sword carved through the masonry as if it was not there before coming to an abrupt stop. Chunks of rock exploded from the stone foundation leaving a large impact crater.

"A mad dog needs to be put down," echoed the darkness, "Justice shall be merciful."  
Dozens of swords burst forth from their hiding places in the shadows at supersonic speeds.

Berserker did not even flinch. He arced his titanic sword and released a wave of cleansing light. The swords exploded in midair, not even making it close to their target. In a bright flash the temple ground were illuminated once more, forcefully ejecting Assassin from his vantage from within the shadows.

I charged at Berserker just as Assassin was dislodged. The mad Servant's jagged blade cut within an inch of Assassin as he twisted over it like a high jumper. The light dissipated and the shadows welcomed him back as he dove into the Earth.

Blades formed in front of me as I loosed them, they ripped through the air, piercing their target as he was distracted.

Berserker roared as he turned towards me, swords protruding from him like a pincushion. Waves of red spilled from the wounds and masked the blue enameling of his armor.

I kicked off the ground and surged forward. Kanshou and Bakuya slashed at the weak points in his armor, opening up a thousand cuts up and down Berserker's body in a whirlwind of steel and iron. I moved as fast as I could, but in my state it was too slow.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

The blades in his body exploded, sending burning steel shrapnel screaming through the air. I brought an arm up to shield my face as bits of twisted iron bit into my body.

He swung his sword down at me. Too fast. The warped shape of his broadsword more aerodynamic than it appeared. No. It moved quickly in spite of its construction. Such was the ferocity that this Servant possessed. I tried to block it.

My arms ached as the force of the impact was resounded through my blades. Berserker swung again and again Kanshou and Bakuya were there to meet him. The ground beneath me caved from the repeated impact.

Berserker's armored form seemed to groan in frustration before he moved to cleave my head from my neck with a single back-handed swing of his sword. My weapons moved to parry, but the swing missed overhead purposefully.

My eyes bulged in surprise as Berserker's gauntleted fist smashed through the twin blades as though they weren't there. The impact collapsed my chest and flung me backwards. My neck snapped forward as I slammed into the ground head first. I groggily rolled onto my gut, pushing myself up to face my opponent even as blood seeped through my trenchcoat from where Berserker had connected.

The muted thudding of steel-toed boots grew loud to my left. A red cloak fluttered as a sudden gust of wind swept the ruined battleground. Archer walked passed me, stopping only long enough for me to make out the outline of a contemptible sneer as he looked down at me. He snorted, and charged at Berserker just as Assassin exploded from the shadows once more and onto the mad beast's back.

I coughed up flecks of blood as I kicked myself up, not wanting to be outdone by anyone. I sprinted by Archer and slid underneath Berserker's swing as the red knight flew over it. A torrent of dust kicked up as I ran my swords across Berserker's knees.

Assassin stabbed his copies of Kanshou and Bakuya into the crook between Berserker's pauldrons as Archer forced a slash across his helm. The mad Servant's ruined helmet split in half, its two pieces clattered against his bevor before falling to the ground..

For a fleeting moment I felt victorious. As I laid still, sucking in air, I thought we won.

I knew better.

Berserker's eyes burned even brighter as tiny swords tore their way out of his body. The sound of grating metal sawed through the air as they weaved a scar of blood and steel. A muffled snarl escaped from beneath his mailed cover, before he opened his mouth and roared.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Berserker snatched Assassin out of the air with his free hand before he could escape into the shadows. He dashed him against the ground like a club, trying to bludgeon Archer to death with him.

Archer dodged the first two blows, but he was too slow. The accrued damage from his earlier fights taking their toll. Assassin's body met his, and a spurt of blood exploded from his mouth.

Berserker released his improvised weapon on contact, sending the two battered Servants careening into the forest surrounding the temple.

I lunged at Berserker's back, desperate to slow the beast. My swords slipped between the cuts in his armor, but instead of flesh they met steel. Tiny blades formed a secondary shield as they scarred over the wound.

Berserker swung around, his bladed plummeted towards my chest.

I dove to the right as the blast ripped through the ground. Dozens of blades formed again in the air around me and loosed towards Berserker.

"Fuck this!" Shinji screamed in the distance.

"Shinji you dumbass!" Rin tried to give chase before Saber stepped between her and the sudden explosion of rubble from one of my stray noble phantasms that Berserker deflected.

Had they gathered together for mutual protection when Berserker made his entrance?

"Fuck you, Tohsaka! I'm not gonna die here!"

Shinji made a break for the stairs, but a hellish purple wall surged into existence as he slammed into it. The boundary field placed by Caster would become our tomb.

A flash of brilliance came over me. My mind shifted away from the fight. It was time. Nothing else mattered anymore. I struck at Berserker's hands, tiny cuts exploded through his metal gauntlets. More blades burst from his skin.

I darted around Berserker and placed my back towards Shinji. I stood straight, grip on my swords firm despite the hilts being slick with my own blood.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Berserker charged me, arm held high. He swung horizontally.

I forced my body to move underneath, and dug my blades into his forearm. It skinned his arm as it ran from his wrist to his elbow. More blades burst from his skin.

But Berserker adjusted, he clinched his open hand into a fist, and slammed it down at my feet.

The explosion of Earth knocked me back. I twisted midair trying to land on my feet.

Berserker swung at me, threatening to cut me in half.

A dozen blades ripped through the air. They slammed into Berserker's jagged sword, the force shooting its course just far enough to only slice off the tip of my boots.

My ankles cracked as I landed upright. Berserker kept the offensive and forced me back. Every blow was one that could end my life if it connected, every attack one that would leave little left but meat.

"What are you doing, Rider!?" Shinji screamed as I stopped in front of him.

I turned towards him. An evil smile formed on my face.

Berserker's jagged sword screamed towards me. I waited for the perfect moment. Time slowed as I rolled out of the way. My eyes drawn to the battered sword that came only inches away from goring me.

A feeling of nostalgia overwhelmed me. Distorted though the blade was, I recognized the otherworldly blues and golds. It was seared into my mind.

The fey blade Excalibur.

So you are saving me once again, Arturia?

My shoulder almost popped out as I hit the ground, the ground rumbling as Berserker stormed by.

A look of horror overtook Shinji's face as the legendary sword ripped through his midriff and embedded itself into the boundary field. He raised his hands to touch the sword as if uncertain what was actually happening. Whether this was a product of his own hubris or the shock I did not know, nor did I care. Tears welled in his eyes and in between fits of blood-rattled coughing he would hic in despair.

The situation dawned on him. He was going to die.

The purple of the boundary field flared as Berserker tried to force the sword through, sparks of prana exploding from where the legendary blade of King Arthur met Caster's magic.

Shinji raised his head, blood leaking from his mouth, and stared at me. He motioned a hand towards me. Gesturing, pleading for me to save him.

"R-Rider... please! Save me!" he coughed. "P-please! I'm sorry... for everything!"

Tears poured freely from his bloodshot eyes.

"I don't want to die!"

I felt the weight of the previously spent command seals on my body, but resisted. I stared into his fading grey eyes with contempt as the color left his face, leaving behind a pale reflection of the man's emptiness; like myself.

"No."

Shinji began to cry in earnest as his only hope for salvation stood by and did nothing. Accept your fate Shinji. To me you are but a ghost; I killed you once more.

Berserker's roared a tinny voice of frustration as he grabbed his sword with both hands and ran it along the boundary field wall as if Shinji's presence on his blade affronted him.

A violent purple fire erupted as the boundary field fought back, a magical fire that burned into Shinji's back. Berserker finally relented his assault on the wall and turned his attention to Shinji himself, still barely clinging to life like the most determined of cockroaches.

Berserker smashed the blade into the ground repeatedly in an attempt to extricate him from the tip. Bone white stonework was painted red as blood seeped between the cracks and into the holy grounds of the temple. Shinji's wails for salvation turned from a cry to a gurgle. His bones snapped. His body pulped. Soon no more sounds came from him, only those of metal scraping across stone.

Strewn limbs and pulverized meat lay scattered where there used to be a body. The burning Book of False Attendant the only testament of who the bloody mess used to be. The ethereal flames licked at the book and reminded me of a time long ago.

"You had more of a chance than you gave _her_."

The sounds of scraping metal broke me from my trance. Berserker turned towards me, the blood, gore, and brain matter that caked his armor steaming in the bitter cold night air.

Amber eyes stared at me between matted, crimson-stained hair.

I returned the gaze and let my body fall into a defensive posture.

Pleasure was over. Now it was time for business.


	47. Saber VII

Saber VII

My blood slicked fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword piercing through my chest. They slipped as I tried to get a firm grip on the handle. With a heave I thrust out my arm; the freezing wind rushed into the wound as Kanshou left my body. Air sucked into my lungs between every ragged breath.

I held it by my right side.

Odd.

It was in the wrong hand.

A trickle of prana whimpered through my circuits as I tried to trace Bakuya. Not enough. My prana reserves were empty.

I sighed. This will have to do.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Berserker's terrible roar rolled through the temple.

I lifted my head.

It was a war zone.

Spires of scorching granite and steel screamed through the air as Berserker cleaved the foundation from the Earth. The inferno blazed around the outskirts of the temple, its heat scorched at my skin and blinded me. A black haze drifted over the clash of steel.

Archer, Assassin, and Rider fought a desperate battle of survival against the mad Servant. Their movements were sluggish, and Berserker would soon overwhelm them. In the war of attrition they would be outmatched, for each cut they inflicted a thousand little swords burst from his wounds.

I couldn't stand around doing nothing. Despite my wounds I had to help, it was in my nature. But I was not stupid. I was outmatched, my wounds were too grievous. Even though I still stand, there was barely enough prana to sustain my existence.

I smiled. Throwing myself into a hopeless situation with no chance of survival; how predictable.

The ligaments in my knees snapped as I stepped towards Berserker. Clutched within the beast's monstrous hand Assassin struggled to free himself before he was smashed into the ground. He let out a gurgle as he slammed into Archer and flew off into the woods.

Rider stood alone. He dug his swords into Berserker's back, trying to cut through the armor, but he wasn't making any progress.

I ran towards him as he initiated a fighting retreat. The blackened steel of Kanshou gripped in my right hand. One arm was better than nothing. Without its partner the lone sword tugged towards its opposite dug into Berserker's shoulder. Without something to keep it grounded it would chase into a desperate situation and its death. How appropriate.

"Shinji you dumbass!" Rin tried to grab Shinji as he ran off.

I shook my head, this was the old Shinji. The crude megalomaniac born of insecurity and jealousy.

A tremor ripped through the air as Berserker smashed at Rider's phantasms. Screaming chunks of jagged concrete flew towards Shinji and Rin. It would kill them.

Without thinking I put my remaining strength into my legs. I kicked them into overdrive, and my arms bulged as I swung them to keep balance.

Even in my weakened state a hundred meters was nothing to a Heroic spirit. I cleared the distance in a second and stood between the jagged rocks and Rin. Kanshou swung across my chest to shatter the larger pieces of rubble. They split into fragments and bit into my skin.

"Fuck you, Tohsaka! I'm not gonna die here!"

I turned my head. The bark on the trees shaved off by flying shrapnel, but Rin was safe. She kept running towards Shinji unawares of what transpired.

Rider shifted his strategy. He kept on the defense, but would only dodge the moment before contact with Berserker's sword. His back was turned towards Shinji as he moved in reverse.

My eyes bulged. What are you doing? I thought rhetorically.

He was kiting him towards his Master. Pure joy graced Rider's face as he moved himself into position, waiting for his plans to come into fruition. What had he experienced that would make him hate Shinji so much?

In a flash he stood directly between Shinji and Berserker. The mad Servant held Excalibur at his side, ready to smash them both. It sliced through the air with such speed that a miniature vacuum formed in its wake. The edge came within a millimeter of Rider before he dodged.

I rushed to move myself between the blade and Shinji; too late. Rider was a heroic spirit and had the reflexes to match. Shinji was a normal human being unable to best the most minor Servants.

Blood splattered onto Berserker as he smashed it into Shinji's midsection. The life drained from his body as Berserker tried to force his sword through the boundary field. He soon gave up, and instead opted to pulverize his victim, strewn limbs and intestines erupted outwards as he smashed Shinji against the ground.

I'm sorry. You can't save everyone.

Rin stood not far away from the red congealed paste that used to be Shinji. She held in her hand a pair of jewels, calm and composed, despite the subtle trembling in her knees. Rin would deny that it affected her, the life of a magus, but I knew. Beneath the exterior she was not only terrified, but upset at being unable to stop Shinji. Why else she have saved him when he was forced to become the lesser grail?

I ran up to her as Berserker and Rider resumed their fight. Archer and Assassin were back, and I could feel their presence converging on us.

Rin snapped back in shock, ready to blast me with her jewels, before lowering her arm. She relaxed.

I wrapped my arms around her, the scent of sweet lilacs drifted up from her hair, and carried her bridal style. She tensed for a second before relaxing as I put distance between us and Rider.

Where would be the safest place? Where would I have gone? The gears in my mind churned as I thought of the temple. Whatever happened to the monks? No doubt my younger self would see to it that they were safe.

The ground shook as I neared the entrance to the temple, memories of Beirut flashed in my mind. I dropped Rin off, the shock lifted as the blood returned to her face, and turned back towards the fight. It resumed in full force.

I sighed; just like Beirut.

Some things never change.

"Shirou..."

I paused. Does she know? Probably. I shook the thought from my mind and kicked off towards the sound of clashing swords.

My presence went unnoticed, my power too weak to even register in their minds. Archer and Rider continued to dance around Berserker, trading blows and switching off to give each other enough rest to fight on. Despite the antipathy we worked together real well.

Assassin hovered around in the darkness, providing fire support from the shadows. He attacked at odd angles and times to shore up his allies weaknesses. Berserker broke open a weak point in Archer's defenses, but before he could bring down the final blow a longsword burst from the ground and knocked his arm off course. Rider immediately relieved him on the spot and counterattacked.

Unfortunately for their choreographed fight, I joined the fray. With barely a thousandth reserve of prana, one sword, and missing two fingers, I was probably more a hindrance than an asset. And yet, they didn't seem surprised by me. Just a nod and a smirk, then back to business.

My first attack connected with the crack in Berserker's midsection. Kanshou sunk into the blackened flesh as Berserker twisted in defiance. He brought his terrible blade down at my feet. I lost my grip on my sword as the shattering force catapulted me backwards.

The heels of my boots dug into rubble as I fought to land uprighted. I staggered, but remained standing.

"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Berserker diverted all his attention towards me. Moonlight reflected off the steel blades of his pockmarked face as he stared at me with his glaring golden brown eyes.

A shiver.

Somehow, I think I made the situation worse.

I sidestepped as Berserker slammed his sword down on me. My breath grew haggard and fatigued with every movement. Rider and Archer attacked at his back, but Berserker remained focused on me.

The mad beast ignored everyone else and continued in earnest at killing me. He moved faster than he did before, with more anger and ferocity. I couldn't move, my muscles screamed in agony. I forced myself down as Berserker cleaved off my ear.

Blood blurred my vision as I rolled onto the ground. Sweat soaked through my hair and jagged rubble scraped at my skin. The blade came crashing down beside me.

I forced myself back up, I wasn't going to go down yet.

Berserker continued the onslaught. He kept the offensive and never let up. With every movement I felt myself getting slower, getting weaker. My prana reserves bottomed out. Keeping my physical body became too much.

I dropped to my knees, exhausted and fading out of existence.

I was done.

Berserker stood firm, his sword over head.

This is it. This is the end. I accepted the inevitability of death and prayed that I had done enough for Shirou. Like children, all you could do was guide them as best you can and hope. Hope they did alright.

I closed my eyes as he brought it down. It would be nice to see my family again.

As the twisted fey blade neared my face a hush fell over the temple. The attack stopped as a sense of foreboding ran through everyone of us. Something was wrong.

We froze.

"I came here expecting a joyful reunion, instead I see nothing but a pack of fakers."

My heart stopped.

How could I have forgotten?

I was too preoccupied with helping Shirou that I missed the most important factor in the Holy Grail War.

Silence fell over the temple. Even Berserker in his mad state of mind stayed his blade. Only Rider took an extra second to cease his movements, his eyes narrowed in confusion as we looked at the intruder.

The bane of my existence.

The only Servant I could defeat.

The King of Heroes.

The Gate of Babylon bathed the temple in its golden light as thousands of Noble Phantasm hung above Gilgamesh. He stood in his distinct golden armor with a neutral face. An eerie calm hovered over him, like we were something to be suppressed immediately.

This fight would be different than the one I faced. This was not the expression of calm due to overconfidence. No overbearing grin, no taunts, no smug words of superiority, just simple and composed hatred. Gilgamesh was angry. One faker was a thief to be executed. A cabal of fakers was an affront to his existence. He wanted us dead as soon as possible.

Gilgamesh raised his hand in a bored manner. This was business to him. He needed to eradicate a plague, no time for fun and games.

With a snap of his fingers the thousands of noble phantasms surged out of the gate.

In our depleted states we could do nothing but be annihilated by them.


	48. Shirou VIII

Shirou VIII

The temple grounds erupted into a hail of exploding noble phantasms as Archer, Saber, and Rider began their fight.

"Don't just stand there, Shirou! If we take out Shinji, then we can end this!" Rin said, rattling me out of my daze.

I nodded and ran ahead of Rin, eliciting a quick rebuke.

Rin was right. Why was I standing there slack-jawed when I could be doing something?

Wasn't that what I'd wanted all along?

But I didn't want to kill him. If I could reason with him, get him to give up his command seals, he could take shelter with the church.

There was no reason anyone had to die.

The intensity of the fight grew as stray legendary weapons ricocheted and stabbed into the stonework around me, but my eyes remained fixed on the sneering, blue haired teenager that stood defiantly ahead.

Shinji was gesturing his fists, engrossed in the brutality of the fight between Servants much as one would revel in the fight between mixed martial artists.

His eyes caught mine as I slid to a halt.

"Ah, Emiya, come to enjoy the show?" He grinned.

"Stop this, Shinji!" I said. "You know it's over! It's two against one!"

He gave me a look as though measuring my words.

"...over? You think _this_ is over?!" He cackled as he bent over forward in a fit. "So, what? You want me to give up? Run away like a whimpering dog with its tail between its legs?"

"Take shelter with the church. Give up your command seals. End this."

He lifted his head to look at me with a twisted expression.

"You have no idea... no idea at all at the pain I had to go through." The whites of his knuckles flared as his hands balled up.

I could hear the light footsteps of Rin draw closer from behind me.

"What are you doing, Shirou!?" she said.

"You have no idea of what it's like to be thrown aside like trash! To lose your own heritage as a proud magus!" He threw his head back and looked up at the moonlit sky. "All I've ever wanted was to feel the exhilaration of being a magus, Emiya. I would study family tomes, read the history, immerse myself in the culture. I lived and breathed the life. And for what? Just to find out that I have absolutely no aptitude for magic? That it was all a waste?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I finally get to be what I've always dreamt of and you're telling me to throw it all away?"

He approached me with measured steps.

Kanshou and Bakuya flashed into existence in my hands halting his approach.

"Oh? Gonna kill me if I don't give up, Emiya?" He said. "You gonna beat me up like when you found out about my whore of a sister, Mr. Hero?"

I grit my teeth as I remembered when I'd first found out that Shinji had been beating Sakura. It had been the final straw in a long decaying friendship.

"I'm trying to save you, Shinji," I said between clenched teeth.

Shinji looked amused for a moment.

"Did I ever tell you why I did it?"

He brushed his hair back with his hand.

"She disgusted me. An adopted sister brought in from nowhere who was showered with goodwill. I treated her well, at first, you know. Back when I was naive. Ohhh, but when I found out that my grandfather wanted _her_ to succeed the family," his face twisted in a sick smile, "when I found out that she'd betrayed my kindness I let her have it. I beat her, and beat her, and beat her. And more."

He looked at me as I struggled not to cut him down right there. I could hear Rin's knuckles crack behind me, but I didn't care. This was a conversation between me and Shinji.

"And you know the worst part of it all?"

He cocked his head.

"She never once fought back or cried or apologized. She'd just look at me with those dead eyes of hers and accept it all like it was her lot in life. Just a broken doll with no drive of her own."

"Shiiiinjiiii!" I charged forward. My twin swords disappeared back into the ether as I drew an arm back. Shinji looked shocked at the speed with which I closed the gap and raised his hands in fear. My fist cracked into his face, sending him careening backwards. He struggled to hold his balance, teetering on the edge of collapse and leaning backwards.

I closed in once again, delivering another fist into his defenseless gut. He reels forward, his hands clutching his body and collapsed onto the ground.

I looked back at Rin. I think she'd wanted a go at Shinji just as much as I had judging by the expression she wore.

I looked towards the main temple structure that was supposed to house the monks. At this time of night they should all be sleeping, but I don't know anyone that could sleep through the outright hell that these Servants had unleashed. There was something more going on here.

"Rin, stay here and make sure Shinji doesn't do something stupid. I'm going to check the Temple to make sure that there isn't anyone trapped here."

"We might as well kill Shinji. It would be faster," she said, "besides, we can't help any of the monks or it would break the masquerade."

"You wouldn't leave them to die. Well, I don't know about Issei."

She looked at me curiously.

"Oh? May I ask why you're so sure of that?"

"Because you didn't leave _me_ to die."

Potted plants and traditional artwork rattled as a miniature earthquake rocked the grounds. The hallway lit up as the fiery explosion from the fight pierced through paper doorways and wooden bulwark alike.

"Is anyone here? " I said.

Why? Why couldn't I find anybody?

I left Rin out in the courtyard with every expectation that I'd be able to help Issei and the monks out of the temple, but every room and every hallway was eerily quiet.

Nothing indicated they'd been here in a long time, no signs of struggle, nothing. It was as if they had all just packed everything up and left one day.

It was unnatural.

Issei had been at school just that morning, but he would have mentioned something if his father and everyone at the temple had vanished. Yet the evidence was as clear as day and even Issei himself was gone.

A flash of purple and white disappeared around the bend in the hallway.

"Hey, wait!" I yelled as I ran after. "I'm trying to help! Stop!" Sneakers thud against wood as I scrambled down the hallway, my hands raised to brace myself against collisions as more violent explosions rolled the ground beneath my feet.

I nearly jumped three feet back when I turned the corner.

"Illyasviel," I said.

She smiled.

"We keep meeting at such late hours, Onii-chan. You really should stop these late night traipses or someone might think that you were turning into a truant."

My hands tensed at my sides as I realized the full implication of her being here. Berserker was here. If she was targeting me specifically, I wouldn't even last a second.

"So quick to jump to conclusions," she said, noticing my nervousness, "relax, I'm just here to talk."

She motioned for me to follow her.

I obliged, but at a distance and mentally prepared to use a command seal to bring Saber to my aid.

She led me to a spartan wood frame illuminated from the outside to a bone white by the light of the moon acted as portal overlooking the temple courtyard. A window punctuated only by the multicolored, ethereal prana discharges of the Servant battle below.

I peered outside over the purple, fur lined hat of the Einzbern magus whose height only brought her halfway up the height of the window.

There was another Servant embroiled in the melee now. A black clad one that seemed to be assisting Rider. He danced and battled through and across the shadows, turning the battle against the Saber and Archer duo.

No sign of Berserker.

"Notice anything about the new Servant fighting outside, onii-chan?" Illyasviel said.

I blinked away the after-images from the flashes of light and focused my eyes.

White hair and a shroud tied around his eyes.

"Doesn't he look familiar to you?" she said.

Tanned skin.

Unmistakable twin blades of the blackest nights and the brightest moons.

It couldn't be?

Illyasviel's fur hat brushed against my chest as she craned her head back. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness like rubies.

"Haven't you felt that something has been wrong ever since this War began? A heavy, gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach that wouldn't go away? A question that had suddenly taken root brought about by a crimson sigil burned into the back of your hand that you didn't even know to ask?" she continued.

My voice caught in the back of my throat. Pain shot through my head like lances of fire in the hottest of forges.

"This shouldn't be possible. Rin, she told me that every class summoned would be another unique hero. There could be no duplicates."

She clucked her tongue.

"True to an extent, however, there are ways to circumvent the rules of the Grail War. Under certain circumstances brought on by the influence of individuals who know what they're doing, the Grail System is as clay under their hands. There were multiple incidents in the Third Grail War that amounted as such."

"What are you trying to say?" I said.

"That there is something very fundamentally wrong with this particular War.

I shook my head in frustration. It was like there was fog in my head. I felt like I knew the answer to what Illyasviel was trying to tell me, or at least the gist of it, but didn't know what the core question was.

She sighed as she brought a handle to her temple.

"Honestly, Onii-chan, sometimes I wonder whether you're being dense on purpose."

"You're one to talk, you're striking me as being very... unchildlike. Very different from the mental image I've built up so far."

She chuckled at that and shuffled out from beneath my gaze.

"No, you're not dense. Not in this case at least. It's more like you refuse to admit the truth of the situation."

My head hurt and I felt like vomiting. Something she said resonated with me.

Saber, Archer, Rider, Lancer, Berserker, and this new Servant. There was some sort of familiarity that I felt with them.

"All the Servants in this Grail War are wrong. An impossible thing has happened, Shirou. Whether you admit it to yourself or not it does not change the fact that it _is_."

Their fighting styles, their weapons, their magics. When I look at them I feel as if I could reach out and master them. It were as if this was a path meant for me to walk down.

My stomach churned.

Illyasviel frowned.

"You're lying to yourself. You already know the truth of the situation, but you don't want to admit it. You're scared, because what you've realized both gives you hope and plunges you into despair. They're all the same Heroic Spirit, Shirou, but that's not what I'm trying to get you to realize."

She stood on the tips of her toes and reached a hand up to caress the side of my face.

"Illyasviel..."

"Not Illyasviel, Onii-chan, it's just Illya to you."

She rubbed the side of my face as I'd imagine an older sister would for her brother to cheer them up and encourage them.

"Illya.. I-I," my mind shut down as I tried to make sense of what she was saying, "please don't."

Illya's face scrunched up in anger.

"Don't keep lying to yourself, Shirou. You know the answer, but you still don't realize the question."

She began to walk away before pausing.

"Who is Emiya Shirou?"


	49. Berserker

Berserker I

A moment of clarity. Flashes of coherence. Such was the half existence I had found myself in since being summoned by my older sister Illya.

How long has it been since I'd last seen her? She had died shortly after the very Grail War I now found myself participating in as a Servant, so that would make it about twenty odd years ago I suppose. Though, I'd wager that time in this circumstance is relative.

Especially when you factor in that I had been dead up until now.

One moment I was slipping away, blood and energy seeping out of my body as I lay dying on a hill of swords. The next? I looked down to find Illya holding my blood-stained gauntlet in a forest of scarlet dotted snow and surrounded by the dead carcasses of a pack of wolves.

It was good to see her again despite the situation, even if it was from behind the miasma of Mad Enhancement.

That was the last conscious memory that I had until the Grail War had begun proper and even then the few moments where my mind would resurface offered me only glimpses into what was happening.

Everything was wrong.

None of the Servants that I had fought during that course of my own Grail War were who they should be, instead replaced by who I very quickly figured out were variants of myself further along the paths I had not taken.

I wanted to laugh as my body moved itself to time and time again fight against my own doppelgangers. How often did fate offer you the chance to literally fight against yourself?

I could only imagine the thoughts that went through the minds of the others as they had figured out the situation for themselves.

Ah, Arturia would have laughed at the stupidity I've once again found myself in.

Then again, she would have laughed that a stupid teenager from Japan would embark on a crusade to endlessly pursue her into an impossible dream.

She would smile that sad smile of hers and tell me to let her go, to go on with my life.

I can't do it.

Emiya Shirou will endlessly pursue Arturia Pendragon until he finally collapses on his hill of swords. He will fight and fight until when his body finally collapses and all the world has turned on him he finally finds his way to Avalon. He will against all odds bring about a miracle to a lonely girl he never learned to be human until the very end.

That is Emiya Shirou.

I cannot turn my back to that. Even Mad Enhancement cannot rob me of that.

I can no more abandon that key facet to my identity than I can back down from the armored figure in front of me.

Bathed in the shimmering red-gold light of the Gate of Babylon stood the King Of Heroes, Gilgamesh, the bane of a Grail War long since over for myself re-manifest.

When I saw the look of disdain that took root on his face my body began to move by itself.

The metal of my armor creaked and complain from the damage it had taken up until this point, but even still it shone in an ethereal light as if in defiance of this one-time king of Uruk.

As the first of the ancient blades loosed from Gilgamesh's armory I was already moving into position.

The various Emiya Shirous arrayed behind me and a wall of death to my front.

To save others I would even give up my own life if I had no other choice.

This was the only path.

Excalibur whirred through the air as I prepared myself to meet the onslaught head on. It was only a crude copy with fey components replaced with the closest approximations that my tracing magics could supply, but at this moment as I prepared to march towards my death for the second time in my life it felt as real as the original.

"Let's go, Saber," I said, my voice rasping from disuse and muffled by my helm.

Ten. A hundred. A thousand.

The full might of a King's armory was unleashed upon the assembled gaggle of fakers that he had found congregating in front of him.

Yet even as the blades of countless legends tore through my body and ripped my limbs apart my legs stood strong and Excalibur continued to strike and deflect weapon after weapon.

I am no fool, well, Saber would say I used to be, but I'd like to think that I've grown out of it somewhat.

I know I'm going to die.

I know that the others will still be maimed even for all the weapons that I've stopped with my own body, but even if it's a little bit... even if I did something, then it is worth the effort.

As the Gate of Babylon grew silent I slumped forward on a knee, using Excalibur to prop myself up in a pool of my own blood and remains.

This is the end.

My consciousness began to fade again, but not into the dull fugue state of Mad Enhancement. No, this time I could feel myself slipping into the embrace of the abyss.

Ah, it's just like me to die surrounding by swords again.

I could hear Illya crying out my name, probably to the confusion of some of the other iterations of myself. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to head on ahead, nee-chan.

My thoughts turned to a field of green illuminated by the warmth of a sun and a woman clothed in the gentlest of dress waiting.

An ever distant utopia.

I exhaled one last time.


	50. Assassin V

Assassin V

Another fire. Hot singeing flames poured from the ground as the inferno embraced us. The destruction left the temple ground in ruins, as nothing but charred crater remained.

I felt the emotions of the others. Reaching out through the faint vibrations in the air. I could hear the quickening of the hearts and the shortening of the breathes.

Archer, who struggled to remain standing, propped up by a menagerie of swords, spears, and axes. His muscles are relaxed, but I could hear his heart racing. He's trying to appear calm, but the heart never lies. He is nervous, and afraid. He does not know what to do next.

Saber, who laid on the ground immobile and barely breathing. A small twitch erupted from his hands before ceasing completely. Filled with anger and despair, he foolishly wishes to drive on, but he cannot. He is done.

Berserker, lifeless and without hatred. The mad beast is at peace.

Finally, Rider, the one consumed with despair. He is confused, but angry. His teeth grinded as he tried to push himself forward. I could feel his muscles tense as he tried to tighten his grip on his weapons. But it was fruitless. The sickening pulse of his left arm continued as it thrashed against the ground. Disconnected from his body it can do nothing but die. With one arm there was nothing he could do. The anger and despair clouds his judgement. He is combat ineffective.

However, I did not share their feelings. What I felt was something else entirely.

Instead, a raw compulsion roared from the confines of my soul. My breaths grew shallow, and the moisture from my mouth dried out. Every nerve in my body shook and quivered as I fought to rein in my emotions. The corners of my lips edged upwards.

What was this feeling?

Slowly as the gears in my the back of my mind churned. With every creak the image grew clearer. Gilgamesh's arrogant sneer had been burnt into my retinas since that day, but this time it was different. This time the image was real.

The King of Heroes himself has finally graced me with his presence.

It dawned on me.

Excitement.

It has been so long since I felt it.

Now was the time.

There were no shadows around me, the bright lights from the Gate of Babylon drowned out the darkness. But it did not matter. I could still close the distance.

"Like cockroaches," sneered Gilgamesh, "some of you managed to survive."

The intensity of the heat grew as he prepared another attack. I dug my feet into the ground and threw myself towards the sound of his arrogance.

It did not take him long to notice my presence. Despite his ego Gilgamesh always remained sharp. The chill of fear snapped through my spine as he turned his gaze upon me. In a fraction of a second the Gate of Babylon shifted towards me. It's bathed me in its holy lights and blotted out the shadows. With no where to hide I pressed forward the hail of swords.

Kanshou and Bakuya found its way into my hands, a pair I had not wielded in too long a time. I danced in crease between the blades as they shattered into the ground. My body twisted around the maelstrom of steel and moved ever towards its goal. In a flash I was within arms reach.

The clanking of steel registered in my mind. Out of the ether came the "Chains of Heaven," driving towards me with haste. A strange energy of tremendous power emanated from them. They were no ordinary chains and I would do well to not get caught up in them.

I leaped over the rattling steel like a high jumper, twisting back onto my feet as I hit the ground. Dozens more formed into existence and drove their way towards me. Kanshou and Bakuya knocked away those too fast for me to maneuver around. I weaved as best as I could, but it was not enough.

The shock of pain erupted from my chest as one of them pierced through me. Blood splurted onto the ground as it began to wrap itself around me. My life began to fade away from me.

Gilgamesh laughed, mocking my audacity. He reached back into the Gate of Babylon, readying for the end game. He wanted to end us all at once. A fitting end for a Cabal of Fakers.

This is it. I could feel it.

There was just one last thing to do.

I reached into the depths of my armory, searching for my most cherished possession. Beyond the various copies and images laid the one true original. The last sword I ever saw, the last weapon added to my collection.

As the remains of my blood bathed the temple ground I pulled out the Weight of Justice. It's six pound hilt tore from the darkness.

Gilgamesh paused. His eyes fell onto the blade in my hands as the look of recognition appeared on his face.

That was all I needed.

I slammed the tip of my blade into his heart, shattering through the gold armor. With all of my strength I pushed further and further into him, just as I felt my grip weakening.

"Where..." Gilgamesh quivered with rage, "did you get that?"

My breath stopped.

Finally, the image that had been long seared into my mind began to fade. I smiled as I embraced the darkness.


	51. Interlude VII

Interlude VIII

I spent Saturday afternoon helping Issei repair the cracked radiator in the Student Council room. School ended early on the weekend and I had the extra time before work. It was the least I could do to help.

But as the evening sun disappeared behind Mount Ezou I worried I would be late. I stuffed a six inch flathead screwdriver into my bag and apologized to Issei, telling him I had to go. He nodded, and thanked me for my efforts.

Sound rang throughout the empty hallway when I slammed the door open. The stale unfiltered air stirred as I pushed my way towards the exit at the far end of the building. I had thirty minutes.

"Emiya?"

I turned around.

Shinji stood centered around a trio of girls, one arm wrapped around one of their waists. I didn't recognize anything of them, probably freshmen. "Oh, you're still here, Emiya?"

"I was helping Issei with student council business."

He laughed, the girls joined him too. Shinji propped himself against one of the windows. "I envy you," he said, "you can get good reports from the school without having to do any club activities."

I disagreed. "It's only natural for a student to fix the equipment. After all we're the ones using it."

"Hmph," he snorted, "didn't I tell you I always hated how you acted like a good kid."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember. I thought it was just a thing you said so I never paid attention to it."

He pushed himself off the window and stood up straight to block my exit.

The light blinded me as the sun angled its way down. "Fine, then do me favor," he said, "our Archery club is a mess right now, don't just limited yourself to the Student Council. You should help us too."

"Didn't Fujimura-sensei tell you to do that?" giggled one of the girls.

It would take at least two hours, and I promised Neko-san I'd come in and help tonight. Shinji will just have wait. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time. I can do it tomorrow."

He laughed, slamming his fists against the chalkboard hanging on the wall. "You're such a fake, Emiya. Despite everything you said you'll only help the Student Council."

My arms tensed and the flash of red burned in the back of my eyes. I pushed past him as he laughed. Work takes priority right now.

Shinji's cackle echoed down the hallways as I rushed out of the school.

Copenhagen nestled itself onto the corner of the Market District between Tanaka's Bakery and Seiyu Supermarket. Fans from the area crowded the pub, gathered around the television to watch the Japan vs Philippine Football game. Two men in oversized suits and gaudy gold necklaces sat at a table in front, a mass of empty pint glasses covering the wood.

I worked stockroom organizing and loading kegs of Yebisu Beer, but occasionally I would come to the front to tidy up.

"I wish all my employees were like you." Neko leaned over the counter, smiling as she watched me clean the tap. "I told you to leave an hour ago."

"I wasn't finished," I said, matter of fact.

She laughed, and placed a tray of empty glasses onto the bar top for the backroom staff. "Boy should be out chasing girls and causing trouble."

I smiled as I continued to wipe town the counter and people watch. The crowd cheered as number six dribbled the ball around the defense and shot it directly into the net. In celebration, the two in front chugged the remainder of their pints and smashed them against the table. Shattered glass sprayed across the floor.

"Speaking of trouble," she pushed off the counter. "Alright, you've had enough!" she said to them.

"Piss off, whore!" They yelled as they smashed more glasses together.  
I cleared over the table in one smooth motion, propelled by the fire igniting inside me. These men need to leave.

"Emiyan," Neko tried to stop me, "this isn't your business."

But the rage boiled inside. I sized them up, tattoos and flashy rings on their fingers, one missing a pinkie; definitely Yakuza. Bullies, drunk off money and power, men who think their connections made them immune. I didn't care. "She told you to leave."  
They laughed, one reached for a half filled pint on the counter. "She also told ya this is none of your business," he said. "Ya should listen to your mom, kid."

I shot my arm out to stop him from taking someone else's drink. But I didn't think, and he slammed his other fist into my stomach.

"AH!" I screamed as I doubled over, my hands clutched at the center of pain.

"Get outta here before we decide to kill ya," he laughed as he tilted his head back and lapped up another drink.

It was humiliating. My cheeks ran hot. No. I am not giving up over something so easily, how could I ever become a hero like this? I pulled myself up and stepped between the man and the bar. I stared him down, focusing with a burning intensity. This is a wrong that needs to be righted. "Leave."  
The two men looked at each other, holding a conversation through various facial expressions. They mulled over a thought for a second before reaching a consensus. Nodding, they took a step back, curled up their fists, and sailed them towards my neck.

I blinked, surprised by their speed and ferocity, and ducked.

But it was not enough, and their knuckles connected with the edge of my lip.

I crashed into the bar top, snapping the tap in half and spilling Sapparo onto the shattered mugs on the floor. My hands gripped for a weapon, something to reinforce to help me fight.

They grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and tossed me to the ground. Shards of broken glass carved up my face like a cheese grater as I slid across the floor, leaving behind a trail of beer diluted blood.

"AH!" I cried, trying to pick myself up.

A green blur flashed in the corner of my vision. I turned to see the tip of a shoe ramming straight towards me. My body froze. I can't die like this.

A sharp stabbing pain registered on my forehead; then the world grew dark.

"Do you think the boss is gonna kill him?"

My feet dragged along the floor as they pulled me down an empty hallway. Blood dripped onto the tile below as the world blurred back into clarity. Memories dribbled into my mind, Shinji, school, a bar, fight, and now here. Black and white pictures of old men and foreign vases lined the walls. I thought I recognized this place.

Anger returned to the forefront, I thrashed about only to find that my hands have been tied together.

"I think he's awake," one of them said.

"It won't matter for too long," replied the other.

They were taking me to see their boss for some reason, maybe to get information on why some punk would mess with their business. No doubt I would be dead soon after. But I won't let that happen, I need to escape.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a notecard. This was an emergency and I only had one shot at this. Normally creating a magic circuit took hours of intense meditation. Time I didn't have. I looked deep inside myself with a single minded purpose. I didn't think, feeling the od cycle in my body. Prana ebbed into the notecard, strengthening it to the toughness of steel.

Perfect. I pressed the notecard against the rope wrapped around my wrist and with a back and forth motion edged it through the fibers. Just a litte more.

"Sorry to interrupt ya boss, but we caught this punk causing us trouble."

The roped snapped. But just as I was about to swing my fists in defiance the two thugs tossed me threw an open door.

I slammed into the tatami mats before a pair of wrinkly old feet. The smell of bengay and fungus touched my nose. The dull pain in my chest surged as pushed myself up with my now free hands. A familiar old man in a green and yellow robe sat before me.

"Raiga Fujimura?" I said. The picture became a little clearer to me and I wondered why I didn't realize it sooner. These men were Raiga's goons.

He stepped off the mat, his face contorted with rage. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Shirou, my boy, are you okay?"

The two goons gulped, realizing they had just made a mistake. "B-boss," one stammered, "we were just minding our own business when-"

"Lies!" I interrupted.

They froze, Raiga turned towards me, his face kind and welcoming.

I wiped the blood off my face with the side of my sleeve. "They were causing trouble at the Copenhagen," I said. I demanded justice, that the damages be repaired and the two punished. "They wouldn't leave so I tried to kick them out."

Raiga nodded, taking in the words. He glared at the two and said in a low guttural voice, "get out."

The two bowed deep to the floor before dashing out the door and down the hallway. I assume they considered themselves lucky.

"I'll take care of those two."

I nodded. "And the damages to the bar?"  
"Done, but..." Raiga paused, taking a moment to compile his thoughts. He let the words sit for a moment. "I do have an offer for you."

I frowned, what could he possibly want?

"Many of our younger members are causing trouble with the city, and I did promise Kiritsugu I'd take care of you," he began, "so, how would you like to join us?"

"No," I said. While I respect Raiga as a friend of my father, I have none for his business. The actions of the two at Copenhagen was more than enough to convince me.

Raiga chuckled, noticing my apprehension. "We need a moderating influence in our organization. Someone to reign in the troublemakers."

I mulled over the thoughts for a moment. It didn't matter how I helped people so long as I did, right? This would help me clean up the streets far better than picking fights with random bullies. The first step in becoming a Hero of Justice.

"Deal," I said as I held out my hand.

He shook it, grateful for my decision.

The next morning I discovered someone had trashed the entire campus. But that was another story for another day.


	52. Lancer VI

Lancer VI

I was too late.

Assassin, Berserker, and Gilgamesh lay dead amidst the smouldering chunks of concrete. Shattered steel littered the ground like unexploded ordnance, and burnt tiling swayed in the wind before sliding off the roof and crashed into the ground. The tiny embers of an adolescent flame threatened to consume the entire temple before I stomped it out beneath my heel.

They had killed each other before I even started making my way up the mountain. I grit my teeth, somehow upset at myself for missing the fight.

The bodies of the dead Servants began to deteriorate, speaks of flesh dissolving as they faded from existence. But a chill ran through me, this was wrong. They way their bodies dissolved filled me with a sense of dread. This wasn't the sweet embrace of death. There was hungering fear, an all consuming force that, if contacted, would lead unending suffering and hatred. This was not the warm embrace of the Grail I instinctively felt, but something else entirely.

I rushed over to the still warm corpse of Gilgamesh, admiring the look of shock on his face. The joy was short lived however, as the darkness swept out from underneath him.

Nothingness, like a hollow shell. I leapt back a good ten meters, desperate to put as much distance between me and the void as possible, watching it consumed Gilgamesh's body as it sunk into the ground.

I landed at the entrance to the temple, beneath the leaning gates. The darkness consume the other three Servants. Their bodies dissolved before disappearing completely, the shadow leaving with them.

I checked areas where their bodies were. Nothing. Not a single trace of prana or anything magical in the area. The temple itself was also bare, no signs of foul play. The monks were okay, exhausted, but alive. Small mercies considering they could've been consumed as well.

The trail was growing cold.

The bushes in the treeline rustled in an unnatural manner. It can't be the wind, and no one would be out here by accident, so I decided to risk it. I swung my hands in the direction of the disturbance, sending my garrote wire out from the sleeves of my coat. It wrapped around something, taut. I pulled.

A humanoid figure soared out from the woods and crashed at my feet into a misshapen blob. It had no mouth, no features, other than two bright white orbs resembling eyes. Caster's familiars.

I slammed my fist into where its nose would be, the splattering ash seeped into my coat. It was a silly feeling, torturing a shadow, but this was my best bet. If I was lucky I might be able to hijack the link and find the Master.

I flattened a three meter square around me and etched out a large half opened eye into the dirt. Centering it were three intersecting right triangles. Prana surged into my crude rune circle, its magic pulling images of bedpans and trolleys into my mind.

Focus. I gripped the temple of my skull. More images flashed. Rows of beds and curtains, all full. The sick, the dying, and the infirm. A man with in green blood stained scrubs, a mask wrapped around his face and scalpel in his hand.

The hospital!

It was perfect. People die in hospital's all the time. The young, the old, the sick and infirm; what better place to avoid suspicion? Caster could harvest a limitless amount of prana from the patients without attracting unwanted attention.

The shadow blob lunged at me. I tried to escape as it let loose an overcharge of prana and exploded in a cloud of ash. I hacked up the mucus of my lungs, feeling a burden weighing me down. Each breath grew more difficult as one by one I felt my cells dying.

This was a curse.

Fuck. I kicked at the pile of ash on the ground in defiance. It was a petty gesture, not something that would help. There was nothing I could do, I estimated maybe one or two hours left to live. Kotomine might be able to do something, but that would only delay the inevitable, if I was lucky I can get a few more hours.

Besides, the Hospital was closer than the Church, I would have to go out of my way, and then backtrack. Precious time I could ill afford. Every second I wasted meant more people dying at the hands of Caster. More souls lost and consumed by him.

I smiled, easiest decision I ever made.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Kotomine. When he picked up I said: "Hey, Priest. I think Caster's at the Hospital, I'm going to go check it out."

"I see."

"I don't think I'll be coming back."  
"..." A pause. "Understood."

"Thanks for everything, jerk." I said before slamming my phone shut. It was the truth. Despite everything I couldn't help but like the bastard.


	53. Shirou IX

Shirou IX

Who am I?

I asked as we shambled down the shattered stairs leading down from Ryuudou Temple. My legs buckled as we went down step by step, moving away from the clashing sounds erupting from behind us. Assassin's attack on the Golden Servant gave us the brief window of opportunity to escape. Something was off about the new Servant. He was different, yet was the only rational thing here.

Archer, Saber, Rider, I couldn't place it, but their existence was wrong. Illya was right, I couldn't ignore it anymore.

Rin lead the way, pausing only to turn around to make sure I was keeping up. Archer trailed behind, half carrying, half dragging Saber's body along our beaten path. I could feel prana drain from Saber, and cursed myself for not being a better Master.

Who am I? The question came back.

There was a connection between me and the Servants. We were all tied together somehow, and I was just missing something. Why am I doing this? Why am I fighting this war? I wanted to protect this city, to prevent the death of thousands; and I am failing. But is that true?

Rin stopped. She stared behind me, her eyes tracking movement.

I turned around.

Illya.

I tensed up, unsure of what to do next. Her Servant is dead, so she is no longer a Master, but would she still try to fight? We would be too weak to resist her she did. Should we run? Maybe if we attacked first we might be able to win.

But a pang of regret rushed through me. Sadness and loss, the anguish of not being able to save someone, of having to watch helpless to do anything. I knew that feeling, and I know that fear. I smiled. Only one course of action.

"You can come with us if you want," I said.

"What?" Rin said. "Shirou, you can't be serious? She's an enemy Master!"  
I nodded, "She's not a Master anymore, Berserker's dead."

Rin grit her teeth, I was right. "She's still a Magus, and can't be trusted. Remember Shirou, Masters can form a contract with other Servants."

"You're a Magus too, and I trust you."

She blushed as the flash of anger roared onto her face. "T-that's not the point!" she stammered. "You can't just trust her."

I stared at her.

"Fine! If you want to take her in then I'm leaving," she said. "I don't trust her enough to maintain our partnership."

My blood boiled, would she really? Why would she be so callous as to do this. I'm doing this because it's the right thing! But I calmed down and began to rationalize, we were weak, and would not survive separately. Rin knew that, she would lose on her own. Illya might actually help us.

I called her bluff.

Rin stared back.

"Allow me to weigh in," Archer said as he faded into existence.

"Archer," Rin cheered, "tell him I'm right."

"I agree with Shirou."

"Y-you too?"

"We are too weak right now, we still have to face Caster and Lancer, Rider may still be alive."

"Hmph, fine, do whatever you want!" Rin stormed down the stairs.

Archer and I shared a knowing glance before he faded backing into spirit mode. I guess that meant yes.

Illya stood at a distance, unsure of what to do next. She shrank away as I walked up the steps of the mountain towards her. Like a scared puppy she shyed away as I neared her. Tears ran down her face and onto her dirty winter coat. She missed Berserker.

I held out my hand to welcome her to the group.

She smiled. The fear and betrayal faded away from her eyes. "Onii-chan."


	54. Archer VI

Archer VI

I found myself alone on the porch when we returned to the house. The screams of combat receded from my mind, replaced by the quiet tranquility of Fuyuki's docile facade. Shirou, Rin, and Illya went straight to their rooms to crash after our exhaustive evening. Illya snuck into Shirou's bedroom a short while after. Amidst the midnight glow of the city lights I enjoyed a rare moment of peace.

My mind wandered onto Rider. Our fight untamed with raw emotion. Two mirrored opposites so similar, but with every microscopic difference magnified to create an image. He was who I am, a fool driven by his ideal to become a Hero of Justice. A twisted funhouse mirror of my own reflection. I had to accept it. He was what I didn't want Shirou to become.

My peace would not last.

Saber staggered onto the porch. His feet lame and broken, he leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing. On Death's door.

I shook my head, did he come to lecture me? One final lesson before the end? I don't need this. I pushed myself off the ground and moved away.

"I'll be dead within the hour so shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say." Saber held up a shaking arm. He stepped in my way, unstable on his own two feet.

I wanted to push him aside. It would take no effort. But I decided against it, the least I could do listen. The rapid unsteady breathing and dialed in eyes convinced me.

"Fine." I sat down.

"Good." Saber grabbed at the nearest support beam and leaned into it. He slid down in a precise instinctually manner, not falling, as if second nature to him. Years of pain caught up with Saber as he stared off into night. But he didn't despair, and smiled.

I remained silent.

"I want to say..." he hesitated, unsure. A tear trickled down his cheek. He laughed. Raw anguish and joy mixed on his face as he tilted his back to unleash a laugh of unfiltered emotion.

"I want to say," he said, "thank you."

I was taken aback, unsure. What does he mean by this? Saber was a confusing entity and wondered if there was a method to his madness.

Saber stared down at his boots, embarrassed. "After the war in my time I continued the same path as you did. I fought to become a Hero of Justice, I fought against evil, I fought and fought. I killed many people, some bad, some good, but in the end it was endless. Endless meaningless suffering."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I lived a good life," he said. "Because despite all that, I was never alone. I had many friends, people I could rely on, people who never failed to carry me when I fell. The adventure was rough, but we shared the load."

I nodded.

"Archer, because of you I was never alone." Saber took a labored breath and smiled. Pure raw joy, the love and thanks of a truly happy man. "Because of you I had a family."

My breath stopped, and I lost control of my emotional mask. Saber noticed it too, and this only resolved to make him happier. I was relieved? Why? Was this what Kiritsugu felt?

The tapping of bare feet interrupted me. I looked past Saber. Rin hid in the corner of the house masked by the night's shadows. Her head hung low as she listened in.

I understood. Why Saber became the person he was. When I became a Hero of Justice I didn't do it because I wanted to save people. I just wanted to see them smile, I wanted to feel what my father did. But I only killed. My existence as a Counter Guardian did nothing, but bring death and despair. Except, in this one instance. It wasn't what I wanted to be. It was why.

I laughed, and hung my head low into my lap. I have let myself get sidetracked.

"Where are you going?" Saber said as I picked myself up.

I walked away, silent and content, hiding the smile of my lips.


	55. Saber VIII

Saber VIII

Rin's head poked out from the corner of the porch. Her frayed black hair swayed amidst the evening wind as the moonlight shone against the sweat of her soft cheeks to give a smooth glint in the night. My heart raced as she stood against the backdrop of the yard. Archer had disappeared. We were alone together for the first time and I knew what she was thinking.

Over the years I learned to read her. The little expressions and nuances in her face, how she could deliver a whole conversation with a few glances. Looking at her I knew she figured it out and how it was time to explain myself.

I dreaded this moment, having to explain myself was never something I was good at, I merely did what I felt was right. Still, I took a deep breath to calm myself. Motionless, without the willpower to move. "Rin," I muttered, feeling the smile creep up on my face in spite of my hesitation.

She lowered her head and looked away, the faint hint of a red blush painted on her cheeks. She shook it off and put on her serious face. With her lips pursed and her eyes forward she walked up to me.

I leaned up against the wall for support, unable to keep myself upright.

She stared down at me with her clear blue eyes, a hint of concern shown in the crinkle of her brow. Explain, her face said, but her mouth could not. Hesitant. She didn't know what to saw or how to begin.

I reached into my vest, fishing for a pack of cigarettes tucked away in the maze of magazine pouches. A cough forced its way up from my stomach, and in violent fits I clutched at my chest. Blood seeped from my mouth. Too much pain, too little prana. Five, maybe ten, minutes left in my life.

She knelt down beside me and placed her hands on my chest to steady me.

My body relaxed as she pressed down with a firm force.

With her other hand she reached into my pockets. I watched her as she slipped between the webbing, searching.

A glint of moonlight flashed between her fingers. She tried to bury the smile that clawed its way to the surface, but I knew it was there.

In her hands was our wedding ring.

What should I say? I planned this all out in advance, what I would do, the words I was use; but now I don't know what to do. How do I tell her?

She clutched the ring close, admiring the engravings within the silver and the bright inset rubies. Her eyes ran along the engravings. A smile snuck up onto her face, flashing for a moment as a snicker escaped from the confines of her curling lips. She laughed.

"I never thought I'd see that face again."

I remembered. Over the Thames River during a wet sopping winter, and backdropped against the London Eye, I proposed to her. She clutched at my hand and screamed in my face, and claimed it was the rain. But her face said it all. Yes.

Rin's laugh died down and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Who are you?"

Emiya Shirou. No. I shook my head. I was more than that. My life was beyond that of a "Hero of Justice." Most of my life I searched for something to die for. People to save, people to protect. But I found I something to live for. I was a hero, yes, but I was also a husband, and a father.

"Tohsaka..." I muttered, "Tohsaka Shirou."

"Ooh?" She smiled, that mysterious bemused look plastered onto her face. She wasn't surprised, instead enjoying the nature of my predicament as if it were expected.

I shrugged.

She nodded. We needed the Tohsaka name to continue to lineage and maintain the household in Japan.

I rolled over a creak to my left and pulled out a grey washed out leather wallet with a hole in the center of it. I held it up to her. Inside was a picture of us. A picture of our family.

Her eyes lit up as she opened the wallet.

"Abby and Malcolm," I said. The center of our world. Nothing tore my heart more than when they learned magecraft, when they wanted to follow my footsteps. I was not relieved like Kiritsugu was; it was not the life I wanted for them.

Rin closed the wallet, and steeled herself. She had gotten distracted and tried to regain her focus. "I need to confirm," she said, "and everyone else is Emiya?"

I nodded, and told her about the Grail War I experienced. How I fought against Archer in the Einzbern Castle and convinced him the path we chose was the correct one. I told her about Gilgamesh, and the Grail, and how it ended.

She sat down, her mind playing out the different scenarios, reasoning the mechanical necessities for this to happen. Heroic Spirits exists outside of time, but how did we could be summoned as we weren't Heroic Spirits.

"I'm sorry." I forced myself up against the pillar, pushing through the strain of my buckling knees.

"Cut the crap," Rin muttered.

I stopped.

Rin sat on her knees with her head turned away. Faint tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to fight them. She was softy. "Stop it," she said. "Stop trying to do everything yourself."

"Some things never change."

Rin grabbed me by the hand and pulled herself up. The scent of pomegranates drifted up from her hair as she buried her head into my chest and wrapped her arms around me. I was trapped in her crushing embrace.

"There's nothing we can do."

She looked up at me and refused to let go. A flush of red crept up onto her pleading face. The rhythm of her heart quickened. She stared up at me, nervous, unsure, her piercing eyes killed my heart. "There is one thing."

I gulped. No. I can't. I turned away, staring at the cracks in the concrete of the outer boundary walls. She's Rin, but this was different, she's younger, and the history isn't there.

The heat glistened from her hands as she clasped them around my cheeks. My heart rocked in my chest. Our pulses synced. I shivered as the contrasting night's wind blew between us. I turned back to her, mustering the courage to reject her advance. But then she began to change.

Her sleek black hair whitened, first a few strands on her head, then it grew in patches, before completely. The color drained from her face from a vibrant peach to an off-grey tint. Crows feet grew beneath her eyes as her skin slackened, leaving behind a sagging smile and a double chin. But her eyes remained the same. Blue. Piercing. Sharp as the day I met her. I could stare into them for the rest of my life.

This wasn't Tohsaka.

This was my wife.


	56. Interlude VIII

Interlude IX

There was no covering this up.

I stood on the deck of the USS Iwo Jima, watching as all the nations of the world prepared the largest military invasion in history. Nearly four thousand warships from fifty four different navies carried the troops of over a hundred and sixty different armies. All driving towards a single target, with one unified purpose.

Antarctica.

The situation was so dire that all the nations of the world even dropped the masquerade. The truth of magecraft, vampires, Alaya, everything was revealed. It was simply not worth the effort any more given the situation humanity found itself in. Simply put, the world was at an end.

"How's it feel being back in the saddle?" General Smith leaned against the railing by my side.

I shook my head, shivering in the freezing cold air as I watched the ship's crew began their pre-flight checks. My only source of warmth the kindling cigarette in my hands. "Could have picked a better time for the world to end."

Smith laughed, turning towards the bow. Through the giant armada of steel, lumbering overhead was a dark ominous purple tower. It stood hundreds of miles in the air, erupting from the ice shelf, it's corrupting bile pouring down from above. "Sorry about the timing, what with it being your daughter's wedding and all."

"This is one hell of a favor to ask for," I said, taking another drag from my cigarette. "Rin wasn't too happy with me." It may have been an unfortunate time, but in truth I was happy. This was beyond my usual distortion, this wasn't joy at being able to save the world, to stop an abomination from eradicating all of humanity. No, this was a chance to fight for something other than my ideals. This was a chance to protect my family.

"How's she doing by the way?" Smith asked. "Still teaching at the Clock Tower?"

I shook my head. "We moved back to Japan fifteen years ago."

"Right," Smith frowned, "sorry about not keeping in touch."  
"A hero's work is never done," I said as I offered him a cigarette.

He took it and lit up without saying a word.

I mulled over my own words as we stood there on the deck. My fight with Archer seemed like a lifetime ago, and I wondered what the Counter Guardian would think about this situation. To be a hero there must always be conflict. And in the pursuit of it he lost sight of it, hiding his true nature behind his ideals. An empty man who can only gain happiness from saving others.

Was I the same?

I shook my head, trying to block out the thoughts. The rising smoke of my cigarette brought me back to Beirut, to the boy on the beach. Being a hero to me was never about praise, but in that single moment, it was worth it.

My life had been different of course. I didn't walk it alone, and I found that while reality never lived up to the ideal, that doesn't mean it can't come close. Abbey and Malcolm were proof of that. I finally had something beyond my ideals to fight for.

"Mr. Emiya!"

I turned my head to see a "young" officer running towards me. On his lapels a pair of Gold Oak leaves.

"Shirou, I'd like you to meet my protege," General Smith said. "Major Wilkens, from Delta Green."

He shook my hand, holding firmly and refusing to let go, a glint of fire burned in his eyes. Almost as if it were hero worship. "I read all about your exploits since I was a kid, Mr. Emiya."  
I returned a fake smile. Definitely hero worship. "Which ones?"

"The classified ones of course," he said, "your actions in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone during World War III are the stuff of legends."

"You'll make your own legends some day," I said.

Smith sighed, rubbing the wrinkles on his face. "At least you two will get to fight. I'm stuck at the CoC for the duration."

I could sympathize with the General. As he moved up the ranks he spent more time at the command post where his experience and insights were put to better use. Still, there was difference between saving the world from the battlefield and doing so from behind a computer.

"We must all do our part, sir," Wilkens said. "If we fail who knows what the Counter Force would do to stop this blight?"

Smith and I looked at each for a second. He raised an eyebrow, as if anticipating what I was going to say. And then we burst into laughter. There was something amusing in the Major's logic, where despite his age, he sounded more like a kid than my son.

"Major," I said at last. "How do you know the mobilization of all of Humanity is NOT the will of the Counter Force?"

Casualties approached seventy percent as we broke into the ancient city turned fortress beneath the frozen continent. How many more needed to die before this would all end? I rushed alongside the remnants of the US Second Infantry division, joined by smatterings of the British Royal guards and French regiments. Bandaged and weary, we continued on fumes. Their tanks and humvees more scrap than machine.

Strange runes that seemed to twist and turn on the walls as though alive were our only means of navigation. Screams echoed through my earpiece as we weaved our way through titanic streets large enough to fit entire armored divisions through side by side and back paths so narrow we could only go through single-file. But I knew where we were going. Backdropped in the center of the city was the howling purple tower that seemed to thud with a dull heartbeat as it grew in power.

Gunfire erupted from the buildings around us. Bursts of magical energy ripped through the ranks. The bullets streaked at us like a single wall, covering the advance of the unspeakable horrors. Demons, monsters, whatever you call them rushed us with their unholy appendages. Screams; explosions; blood and death surrounded us as our numbers met the screaming cacophony of maddening flesh things. But we continued on.

At the end of the twisted alleyways was ground zero in what I could only imagine was at one point in the distant past a massive city square. A circle of Magi stood around it, distributed along key points along a familiar magical circle. Though the magical script was different, perverted, an eldritch scrawl that was as horrible to behold as the creatures that had tried to stop us; I recognized the design, the feel.

The reports were true; whatever this thing was, it was similar in nature to the underlying framework that ran the Holy Grail War.

It flared as the chanting grew louder.

We were too late.

The imposing purple tower collapsed in on itself, distorting the space it had once occupied. The air wavered and tore as tendrils of magical energy licked the obsidian surfaces of the square. Millenia old sheets of ice were jostled loose as a pulse of stale air heralded a rupture in the skin of the world.

They had tried to recreate the Holy Grail War system to reach the root.

They failed.

Whether by incompetence or by the cruel manipulations of unknown actors, they had overshot and tore a hole to some unspeakable place beyond.

Star-spawn in numbers beyond anything I'd ever seen poured through the portal, screeching and hooting in a mad chorus.

Yet, the rift in the world only grew larger. The magi that powered the patchwork spell were no longer in control. Even if, in the blighted, howling shell of their own minds, the wanted to stop the ritual, they would be unable to. They were simply cogs in the machine now.

"Mr. Emiya!" General Smith said in my earpiece. "We are aborting the mission!"

Shit. I grit my teeth and rushed in towards the portal "I need twenty minutes, we can still close it!"

I traced them. My armory, all the weapons I could muster from my reality marble. Prana overloaded my circuit. My limbs ready to burst.

A towering winged monster arose from the portal as the din of maddening sounds the legions of cyclopean monsters sang reached a crescendo, as though welcoming their god. Green and slimy, with tentacle like appendages dangling from its chin. Its arm swept the line and shattered the block around us. Cries of pain and misery echoed around me as a primal feeling of terror and dread knifed into our minds and brought many to their knees. Some in worship, most in despair.

"Basecamp, this is Forlorn Hope, adjust fire, over!" gurgled Major Wilkens besides me. Blood poured from his eyes as he called in his final fire mission. "Great Old One in the open, Fire for Effect..."

I loosed all of my swords at the monster. Overloaded with prana, they trailed through the air as I rushed after them. Kanshou and Bakuya held firm in my hands as they impacted with the beast.

My phantasms splintered on the writhing skin of the towering abomination. The magical energy in them forced their way out and exploded. And in a flash of light they were gone. It washed over the entire city, blinding those unfortunate enough to be staring at it. Its hold over us dissipated for a brief second, and naively some began to cheer.

But I knew it was not over. I dashed towards the impact crater, shells exploding all around me. Avalon restored my vision at a slow pace, but I could make out the lumbering giant through the blindness.

I slashed my way through the surviving magi. Though the spell was almost self-sustaining now, every magus I cut down would slow the portal's stabilization, even for a second more.

"A hero can only save those he sides with." Archer's voice rang in the back of my mind.

"S̸͟͟͞t̵̶͟͢e̵̶͟͡ĺ̴̀l̶̸͘͢'̴̛͢͡͡b̴͏s̷̵̢ń̵̡͝a̢̡ ̵̢̧̧Ţ̕͡ş̵̧̛́a̢͠͡t̢͡͠h̷̨͠҉͘o̢͡g̸̷͘͢g̷̨ù̸̧a̷͟͠ò̵̕͝ģ̵̛̀͞ ̶̴̛͡f̷͝'̷̴̕͘͜z̸h̷̨͟͝r̸o̧͘ ҉͏̸҉ķ̀͟à̸d͏͘͡͝į̛ş͝h̛́͢t̕͜ư̕ ̨́s̷̨̧͟͞y̷̢h҉̷̶͡a̶̡͟͢'̵̶͜͜h̢̧̛͘ "

The sound permeated over the gunfire, over the firing of cannons and the rumbling of tanks. Bullets and shells blew into the abomination, tearing chunks out of it. But instead it turned its attention to me.

And as I stared back at it I couldn't help but feel very small and insignificant. I was but a simple man with a simple ideal. How could I possibly hope to win this?

Its ghastly arms rent the air as they swung towards me. Kanshou and Bakuya disappeared from my hands in a flash as I brought an arm up into the air.

"Rho Aias!" I shouted.

The greatest projection of Heroic Spirit Emiya exploded to life just as the Great Old One's arms came crashing down on top of me. Six layers of the pink-petaled shield disintegrated in an instant as the damage reflected itself on my body, arms; torso; and legs ruined in a bloody display.

Dark whispers burrowed into the periphery of my mind as the cold, marble eyes of the Eldritch abomination stared down at me.

I roared in frustration as rippling green musculature on its arms tensed, forcing me back.

Flashes of white flared in my head as my body labored to remain standing. I didn't even fully realize it when the final layer of Rho Aias broke apart, throwing me backwards in a shower of evaporating prana.

"Fall back, Mr. Emiya." Smith again. "Operation Ragnarok is a failure, fall back to phase line Odin, we are ending this."

"No!" I screamed. I can still do this! I can save everyone! Every fiber in my body fought. I pushed the doubt away as I struggled to my feet and charged. My swords returned, and I forced more prana through my circuits. They sizzled and burned as I overloaded them.

All I had to do was hold it off long enough. Long enough for it to return to whence it came. I loosed more and more of my swords, the explosions doing minimal damage. But it was just a distraction.

I maneuvered around a crashing fist as I cut into its flesh, slicing chunks out of it. A futile effort. My blows may as well have been as an ant to a human to the titan.

It quickly swept its arm across again.

I dodged too slow this time.

Lights flashed in my mind as my ear disappeared in an instant. The pain rippled into my soul. Visions of the dead consumed me. Blood poured from my eyes. The blood of the lives I've taken.

"Don't get carried away, monster." I jumped onto its arm, running up the side of it. My boots dissolved into its skin.

Power surged through my legs and I leaped up at its face. The stale, cold Arctic air whistled through my hair. Time froze for an instant as I stared at it. Its prodigious mud black marble eyes eating into my very soul.

Kanshou and Bakuya disappeared. Prana ruptured through my my body, like pushing a square peg through a round hole. I held up my hands, trying to bring its image into the front of my mind.

Composition and history analyzed.

Static.

Error: fae materials unable to be reconstituted.

Substituting with nearest human approximations.

My body burned.

I am the bone of my sword.

The blade began to take shape. Blue and gold, etched with sacred runes. The sword of promised victory. Excalibur.

"ARG!" I screamed. My circuits shattered as it neared completion. The nerves in my body burst and a slithering pulse ran up and down my spine.

But it was done. I hung in the air drinking in the moment for a second.

"Ex..."

With all my anger I slashed across its ugly face.

"...calibur!"

A torrent of light surged through the sword in my hands. The power of the gods engulfed the monster in front of me. The magical heat vaporized the ice all around us and scorched the ancient stonework of the cavern.

It reeled back from the pain, but in defiance the appendages dangling from its chin surged at me. It was not going down without a fight.

Blood ruptured from my mouth as they punctured my chest. The world grew dark and began to spin as it threw me towards the ground. Time slowed as I fell back towards the Earth. The monster shook as excalibur swept through it and out through to the portal.

I impacted the ground with a crack. An Emiya shaped print formed in the snow, my spine shattered and my circuits cried for mercy. I forced myself to move.

Anything! I had to get up!

I cried. My pinky moved, but that's it. I was paralyzed, and not even Avalon was working. I could feel it, as I forced myself to heal I could feel nothing but the puncturing of steel in my body.

I looked back at the abomination. It began to recede into the portal. Alive, but injured, enough for it to call quits for today.

And as I looked up I could see through the ice ceiling above. Missiles, hundreds of thousands of them in the outer atmosphere; the nuclear arsenal of the entire world. All flying towards the frozen continent.

Thankfully it would be unnecessary.

"General," I coughed. "It's... it's done."

"..." Static registered in my brain. "Understood, transmitting abort codes now." I heard before my earpiece died, having lived just long enough to accomplish its mission.

Just like me.

I closed my eyes, the darkness replaced by a flash of light. My journey was at an end.

A beautiful ideal.

A fight long remembered a lifetime ago.

I could not save everyone. Mangled corpses around me clad in uniforms and those attired in the robes of the cultists were proof enough of it. But. But, that didn't mean I shouldn't have tried.

I could see my family: Rin, Abigail, and Malcolm.

"Have I finally become a hero?" I asked.

And as the world faded I could hear them.

You were always a hero.


	57. Caster V

Caster V

The Matou manor. Stronghold of generations of Matou mages. 500 years worth of perverse magicks stretching back to the family's origins in Russia locked away behind the strongest of bounded fields and magical counter-measures.

No magi would be allowed into its confines unmolested unless the curator of its spell-systems so wished.

But I had had a lifetime and more to perfect my art and the magical constructs of a walking corpse with nary a breath still in its lungs would do little to deter me.

Waves of prana rubberbanded away with a snap as the edges of my lips curled into a smile and with but a wave of my hand the aged wooden doors of the Matou mansion threw themselves upon in subservience.

I could feel pinpricks of prana along my skin-the magical residue of scrying I noted-as I marched into the mansion's ruddy confines.

"I can feel you looking at me scion of the Matou," I said, "why not join me for a chat? I rather think it unbecoming of a magus of your age to slink away in crevices and cracks like a... worm."

My boots crushed and dirtied the plush carpeting as my legs traced a path found in some far flung memory of a forgotten life, leading me to a rather modest study.

Ash and grime dirtied a narrow, delicately cleaned wooden sofa as I took my seat.

"Do be careful not to dirty _everything_ , Servant Caster," a voice said, "my granddaughter does work so hard to keep everything clean."

And so the worm that walks appears.

"Matou Zouken. So, you have heeded my request and made your appearance. I thank you for that," I said with feigned politeness.

The shriveled corpse rasped a chuckle.

"Ah, you've such manners. I would not expect as such from the enemy Servant that made his entrance in such a grandiose manner."

I gave a curt nod.

"I try my best to entertain."

The old man approached me, curiosity and confidence in his own immortality getting the better of him.

Confidence misplaced.

I could feel the lines of prana flowing into and out of the pustule-ridden worms that writhed and crawled beneath the repurposed flesh of some bystander that he wore like I would wear a suit. So easy it would be to trace those paths back to their origins and _squeeze_.

"Tell me, Servant Caster, why have you appeared here unannounced?" he banged his cane against the ground as though he were in a position to make demands. Such misplaced bravado.

But so be it. I will play along for _now_.

"I propose an alliance, of sorts. You have after all lost your Servant," I said.

Zouken's eyes inspected me, calculating a response that would give him an advantage.

"I see you are aware of the death of my grandson and his Servant then," he said. "The Matou family's participation in this War died as surely as my grandson's final breathe did in his throat."

"Don't play coy with me worm mage. I am well aware that Servant Rider yet lives, crippled he may be, surviving only through his tether with your granddaughter. I refered to _your_ Servant."

For once in what must be ages Matou Zouken grimaced.

"Yes, that's right magus of Matou and Zolgen. I _know_ about your machinations. Yet, _I know so much more than just that._ "

KNOW MORE. KNOW MORE. KNOW EVERYTHING.

Ethereal winds licked the walls of the study and ruffled the worn pages of ancient books as my hands conducted a symphony guided by some unknown melody.

Ash coalesced behind the worm mage in a mound and then grew into feet, legs, a torso, and then a full figure of a human. But that isn't enough.

 _This puppet must be more._

MORE. MORE. MORE. KNOW EVERYTHING. NEEDS MORE.

Knowledge and memories FLOODED INTO MY MIND. I had read about these, surely, somewhere.

No, no doubts. No hesitations. A message must be sent. I do not negotiate. I demand. I know how this will all end and it must be stopped.

ONLY I KNOW HOW TO STOP IT. STOP. STOP tragedy from unfolding again.

Pale ivory skin grew into place and the purest of snowy hair unfurled from its scalp. A white silken dress trimmed in elegant gold materialized into place in a crude mockery of what should be an almost divine miracle of the highest order.

Perfect.

PERFECT.

 _Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern._

"Hello, Makiri," her ashen voice said.

Zouken's eyes bulged as he recognized the voice. Slowly he turned.

I savored the look of shock on his face.

"You're gone," he said, "we-I watched you sacrifice yourself to become the core of the Greater Grail. You can't be here."

"But I am, because he," she gestured towards me, "can make it so."

I could feel the emotions roil off of him.

Fear.

Uncertainty.

No doubt emotions that he has not felt in several lifetimes.

"I am prepared to provide you several -boons- to secure your cooperation in this alliance. The restoration of the former Arch-Magus of the Einzberns could be but one of them."

His coal-like eyes swivelled to look at me over his shoulder.

"And I need only do what for these 'boons'? Pledge my undying fealty to you? Sell my soul to you?"

I chuckled as I loosened the shroud wrapped around the stump of my arm. Always such a nuisance.

"You need not do something so dramatic, I can assure you."

"Surely, you don't expect me to believe that you want nothing in return."

"And I do not. I require only one thing of you, Magus Matou Zouken."

His eyes narrowed.

"I require your granddaughter, Matou Sakura."

 _What?_

"For what purpose?"

"I am surprised. You of all people wish to know what -I- am planning for your 'granddaughter'? The hypocrisy astounds me."

He frowned.

"No, I do not like hypocrites and have no wish to become one myself. I plan to use your Matou Sakura in a ritual to _cleanse_ the Holy Grail. It is corrupted, magus, a blight. Matou Sakura will serve as a bridged connection to the Greater Grail which will provide me access to the raw prana I require for my _ends_."

 _No, he's lying. I'm lying. What are these words? What are these thoughts?_

"He speaks the truth, Makiri," Justeaze said, "his mastery over thaumaturgy is astounding, surpassing even those of our families at their peak. You must believe him. The Grail is corrupted. All that we've worked for and sacrificed for is at risk, perverted by a poison my own lineage has introduced. He is the only one who can repair the damage."

"Worry not, Matou Zouken, no harm will come to your granddaughter," I said.

 _LIES. LIES. LIES._

The wispy form of Justeaze knelt down and wrapped her arms around Zouken.

His shoulders stiffened.

"Makiri, listen to Caster. Give him what he wants and we can be together. You and I. Like it should have been. Like it always should have been."

Matou Zouken stood in silent contemplation-before erupting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"Makiri? What is wrong?"

"Get away from me you husk. Don't you dare use the form of one I held so much love for!"

"Makiri, I don't-" she started before Zouken's cane caught her across the face. The familiar tumbled backwards in feigned pain. "Makiri, why!?"

He turned to face me, staring straight into my eyes with an unwavering bravado.

"The woman that I loved was so caught up in what our cause was that she only ever looked through me. How foolish I've been for so long. Nagato and Justeaze would be ashamed at what I've become. _I_ am ashamed at what lengths I've gone through for a cause that I lost sight of so long ago. Juzteaze was radiant and beautiful and so beyond someone such as myself. The coddling and seductions of your puppet sullies her name."

"Makiri I am real! I am real and I love you so!"

"I WILL SILENCE YOU LIKE I SHOULD HAVE FROM THE BEGINNING SPECTER."

I watched as a torrent of worms burst from Zouken's collar and sleeves and washed over Juzteaze, drowning out her screams with their sheer numbers.

He never once took his eyes off of me.

I simply gave him a shrug and a smile.

"As for YOU. I am MATOU ZOUKEN and I and those under my protection WILL NOT BE USED."

Hah.

Hahhahah.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

"Protection? Surely you jest, Zouken? You call what you've done to your granddaughter 'protection'?" I doubled over in laughter for a moment before glaring at him again. "You couldn't even protect Justeaze."

Zouken screamed in rage as he turned the worms on me, I could see it, how he burned with prana in a show unbecoming of him.

No matter. I remained untouched as the worms rolled over and away as though a herd of animals avoiding a predator.

I wonder what look must be on Zouken's face now? A look of satisfaction? Of self-contemplation?

What about now as I moved towards him, this writhing mass of worms finding locomotion where it should not?

Is it fear again?

Hatred?

What about now as my arm bursts from the swarm and my fingers find purchase around his neck?

Surprise?

Resignation?

 _NO. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP._

I CAN HEAR YOU SCREAMING. BE A GOOD CHILD AND SIT AND WATCH.

 _STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP._

How does he look now as I squeeeeeze my hand around his neck. Are his eyes bulging? Is he sputtering?

No, he has the same look of self-assurance. Though no doubt decrying his previous methods as a bastardization of all he has stood for, they bring him some comfort in that he won't die. He will come back and he will fight me.

But what about _now_? What about if I follow those skeins of prana back to their source and SQUUUUUEEEEEEEZE?

Are you terrified?

Are you crying?

The mass of worms struggles harder and harder to attack me to no avail.

The lines of prana blink away one after another, shunting back to protect the source.

The control worm.

But I continue to squeeze until even that light has gone and the worms around me deteriorate into rotting flesh.

Zouken's unmoving face looks at me with a smile of self-assurance.

I cluck my tongue and toss the corpse to the ground.

I am All the Evils in the World.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

I am Angra Mainyu.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

I will be birthed into this world as so many have wished for. A true incarnation that does and begets evil.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

I unwrap the shroud from my stump and toss it to the ground, regarding the orange burning ring of cinders with sterile curiosity.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

And there is nothing you can do now but watch and scream, Emiya Shirou.


	58. Rider X

Rider X

I could still hear Caster's incessant cackling in the back of my mind when I returned to the Emiya residence. It haunted me all the way from the Hospital like the sins of my father. A terrible reminder of the decisions I've made. Oh, how I wanted to forget.

Saber leaned on the counter in the kitchen, three fingers of brandy in his three fingered hand. He appeared lost in thought, his mind wandering onto the happy memories of days long past. But the somber face he wore evaporated when he saw me enter, replaced with that annoyingly cheerful facade. He pulled out another tumbler and offered me a drink; tempting, but I refused.

"It's time," I said.

He finished his glass and pushed it to the side, a wavering smile plastered on his face. So, he too knew this was the end game.

The others arrived shortly after, I noticed Rin first, with something odd in her hands. A ritualistic dagger of some kind, alien to me and all wrong. I couldn't conceptualize it no matter how hard I tried. She explained that it was the Gem Sword of Zelretch, a sort of family heirloom/homework assignment, and integral to defeating Caster.

We gathered around the living room table underneath the flickering lights for a strategy meeting. It was a peaceful evening, with a calm atmosphere that surprised even me. This was the first time the three of us have been together without trying to kill one another. I couldn't remember the last time I had a quiet moment to savor.

Rin's plan was simple, yet beautifully eloquent. Find Caster and kill him. The Gem sword's infinite pool of prana will serve to balance us against the Grail as we cut our way to him and rescue Sakura. It would work, and we didn't have any other alternative. But I had one issue with it. A question that nagged at the back of my mind.

I needed one guarantee.

"One last thing," I said. "A condition you need to agree on."

They stared at me confused, wondering why I was making demands when no one was in any condition to negotiate. It was true, but I had to try, I needed to know. I turned to Archer and Saber, near identical copies of myself, each sharing the same foolish ideal as mine: to become a Hero of Justice.

"If we had to choose between saving Sakura and destroying the Grail, what would you do?"

Silence.

I knew it. They would never prioritize saving Sakura over the fate of the world. Why would they? I didn't all those years ago.

The air grew thick and heavy, its intense pressure crushing my lungs. I gripped my chest with my only hand to ease the pain, but it never ceased, for it was not physical in nature.

"Please, I need an answer!" I stared at Archer. I never knew him in my lifetime, but he appeared sickened and disillusioned. He must have felt the same way I did about the noble ideals of a fool.

Archer didn't respond, instead staring back at me with those tormented eyes. An untold existence of misery told me everything I needed to know. You can't save everyone. For someone to live another must die, and so for the many, one must die.

I lived by that law for far too long.

I looked at Saber, pleading for him to side with me. Surely he could understand!

Instead, he turned away, ashamed, afraid to answer. He was weak! He could never face the hypocrisy of his own decisions. He would try, oh he would try, and he would lie to himself about the decisions laid before him! In the end he was the same, woven from the same cloth as the rest of us. He would choose the world no matter how hard he wanted to deny it.

"Saber!"

"You can't save everyone, but that doesn't mean I won't try." He muttered at last, an empty promise; wishy washy and without any true commitment.

"Shirou, tell me you would do the same!" I turned to him, grasping at straws, begging for allies.

He looked downcast, unsure of himself. "I don't know."

I sighed, so I was alone. I didn't bother asking Rin, I knew her answer, she had already killed her sister once before. "Very well," I said, "be aware that if it comes down to it, I will save Sakura; even if I have to kill all of you."

Archer chuckled, half in contempt, but I felt an odd sense of pride from him. As if to say "better late than never." Whatever, I don't need this from you.

"I've been in worse Alliances of convenience," Saber said through his cheerful facade.

It was a short exchange between us, the three divergences from the single fork known as Emiya Shirou. How different we all turned out, and yet remained the same stubborn fool.

I turned to young boy I once was, hoping to impart some wisdom on him. I could tell him to abandon his ideals lest he become me, lest he become a broken husk of a man. But instead I looked deep into myself and spoke to the person I've denied for so long.

"Shirou," I said at last, "whatever you do, you mustn't deny yourself."

He nodded, taking in my words. Whether he followed them was none of my concern.

My concern was Sakura. And I will save her even if it meant turning against the entire world.


	59. Lancer VII

Lancer VII

I strolled through the crowded entrance of the ER, ignoring the mass of grieving families and coughing patients. A frazzled nurse ran up and down the line, her hair matted and puffed out like an afro. No one batted an eye at my presence, too preoccupied with their own affairs to notice the large tattooed man waltzing through security. Blending in was always a knack of mine.

A pair of cops stood at the corner right outside the ICU, their guns drawn. I pulled behind the wall besides an overturned gurney and peaked around for a better look. Sweat trickled down the back of their necks as they pointed their weapons at a Doctor.

"Stay back," his lips read as he pressed his knife against the throat of his hostage. A petite baby faced nurse with huge knockers. A brief recognition flashed in eyes when she noticed me.

I don't have time for this. I threw my garrote down the hallway and wrapped it around where the handle met the blade. I pulled and drew the knife into my hands; Damascus steel, forged in 1923, an interesting keepsake for a simple doctor.

The cops tackled the perp and dragged him away in cuffs. As they moved past me I rounded the corner and continued down the hallway searching for Caster. If I were to hide out in a hospital I would pretend to be someone on staff or a regular visitor like a delivery man or priest.

The nurse stopped me as I tried to walk past her. No good deed goes unpunished. "I can't let you through, this place is under police investigation."

"How's your neck doin'," I traced my fingers around the nick where the knife was, "doesn't look too bad."

She blushed, and clasped her hands around her adams apple.

"Why'd that guy have it out for ya anyways?"

She took a deep breath as she let the air out of her sweat soaked scrubs, red creeping down from her cheeks. "I'm afraid I can't tell you," she said.

Wait a second. I noticed a thin dangling wire in the center of her cleavage. She was no ordinary hostage. "Yer a cop!"

She picked up an overturned ice cooler and handed to a plain clothed detective as he walked by. The sounded of water and ice shuffled in the container. I feared I was right back at the butchers, but right now I had bigger fish to fry.

I held up my hands. "Look here, I don't wanna get involved in your investigation or what not," I lied. "I'm just lookin' for my twin, should be my height, might have gotten a tan and bleached his hair since I last seen him."

She eyed me closely, examining the scars on my face no doubt. "And why wouldn't you know where your brother's been?"  
I rolled out my sleeves to expose the blue and green tattoos. "Cause he's the good boy of the family and wants nothin' to do with me. I heard all the commotion and was worried is all."

She sighed, pulling out a pair of red trimmed glasses from her front pocket and told me to follow her. We walked past the rows of beeping machines and tangled wire towards what I assumed was the main nurse's station. She pulled a clipboard sitting behind a pair of computers and flipped through the collection of forms. "I don't know where your brother is, but he's usually seen with one of the Security Guards." She stopped. "Able Benedict, Room A224."

"Thanks miss," I winked as I took off, "I don't usually do cops, but fer you, I might make an exception." I didn't bother to wait for her reaction though, and dropped the facade as soon as I made it down the hallway. I followed the signs, up the stairs and to the left. A221. A222. A223. Here.

Whoever this guy is he's Caster's master.

I gripped the handle with a shaking hand, and nudged open the door. In the bed with an oxygen mask hanging from his face was a well rounded man. He was in a coma. I checked his hand for the command seals, one left; it was him. But something was wrong, there was no sign of magic in the area.

Caster had betrayed his Master.

I could kill him and sever the contract. That would be a start, but it would make things worse. Thinking like a crooked cop, I know some things are better left untouched, for fear of the alternative. As they say, hit dirt with a stick and it'll spread everywhere. Caster has plenty of prana, and he could find a more competent Master if he wanted.

Besides, I couldn't kill him anyways. He's as much a victim as the rest of them. I rifled through the man's belongings on the table, rooting through his jeans for clues. A roll of fresh ten thousand yen bills, ticket stubs, and a discount coupon for The Elegant Swan: Hostess and Gentlemen's club. Nothing that would indicate he was a mage. No, this man was just a normal human dragged into the Grail War by accident.

I figured he was just going to spend it on hookers and blow, so I pocketed the cash. Not for me, I wasn't going to be around for too long, but I could probably drop it into a donation bin on the way out.

The chill returned. An amorphous shadow rose from the floor. It had no eyes or body, black with red trimmings down it's flat thin tentacles. It was a wellspring of prana, holding more than enough to level the city like a pint sized Kaiju. And yet it was insatiable for more.

Shit.

This was the worst place to fight, too many witnesses, too many people could get hurt; or consumed.

It lashed at me with it's tentacles.

Fear consumed me. My heart raced as flashes of a flame, a city consumed, death and despair polluted my vision. All the Evil's of the World came rushing towards me. I coughed, my breath labored, and with my shaking hands pulled out my garrott.

The wires spliced across the room, crisscrossing in a an array of death. Creatures of flesh and bone would be eviscerated by the attack. But the tentacle kept on moving. The power of moonlight cut in through the room and shine its gaze upon it.

I leaped backward through the shattering glass of the second story window. My legs cramped and I coughed up blood as I soared through midnight sky. The curse was catching up to me.

My attack didn't kill it, it didn't even hurt it, or even slow it down. But it did get its attention. That was all I needed.

I surged prana through my circuits, lighting myself like a beacon. Why go for the weak morsel's when the main course is right here?

The roof of a police car collapsed as I crashed through it. I found myself sitting besides the doctor from earlier, his mouth agape at my entrance. I gave him a free rhinoplasty before I stepped out of the vehicle. A cop ran up to me, his face shocked and worried at all the blood seeping from my coat.

I handed the man the roll of money. "Fer the damages," I said, and took off.

The Shadow followed me through the desolate streets of Fuyuki city. It didn't conceal its presence as it moved towards me. The idea that it was deserted because the people were already dead provided me no comfort.

I moved as fast as my cramping legs could take me, my speed hampered by the curse. My blood pressure collapsed and it became impossible to get my heart rate up. Shock soon followed.

I found an empty barren field devoid of life and filled with hate and malice in the air. Fuyuki central park, how fitting.

My skin clammed up and blood drained from my hands as my core temperature dropped. The Shadow crept closer and closer consuming everything in its path. The flowers grew black and wilted in seconds as it passed through. The flies fell where they died and the ants scurried to escape from the impending storm in vain.

I pulled out the Damascus steel knife and starting carving runes into my chest as the black mud drew near. Three circles, a pentagon, and a row of trees; I moved as fast as my trembling hand would allow. Only a trickle of blood washed over the blade despite the deepness of the cut, further sign of my decay.

The Shadow's red trimmed tentacles spread into a half circle around me, boxing me in. It edged its way towards me, the ring growing smaller and smaller. The darkness blotted out the moon and left nothing but the Black Shadow in its wake. The mud trudged up my ankles.

Hatred clouded my vision. A man, ostracized by society, dragged through the streets in despair. They beat him, stoned him, and jeered as he lay broken and dying, cursing even himself. All the evils of the world, consumed and scapegoated. How much can one man endure?

My skin boiled and popped. Reality settled back in. I finished the carvings. A brief moment of satisfaction took hold, probably my best work. Kenshi would be proud.

I stared up at the Shadow as the mud crept up to my waist.

"So this is it, huh?"

I clawed my fingers into my heart and let loose a surge of prana. The blood markings on my chest turned blue as they lit up the darkness. The weight of the world left my shoulders.

There was an intense sharp pain, and then I saw not the darkness, but the welcoming smile of a tiny white haired girl.


	60. Saber IX

Saber IX

I ran my fingers along the mustard stain of the otherwise glistening marble countertop of the kitchen. We scrubbed the room down to the foundation before we left for the temple. How did I miss a spot?

But I wasn't going to let it ruin the morning. Soaking dishes glowed as the light from the rising sun penetrated the bubbling water. My shoulders tensed as I turned on the stove. But the pain was gone, and so was the fear of fading from existence with it.

The door to the living room slid opened.

Archer.

"What are you doing?" he said.

I blinked, the three fingers of my left hand wrapped around the handle of the fridge. "Pancakes?"

Archer shook his head as he walked near. He reached past me and pulled out a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk. "I'm making breakfast."

Fuck off. The kitchen was my domain and I wasn't get to let anyone get in the way. Alternate universes be damned.

I stepped between him and the stove.

"Oh?" He glared at me with a stoic expression. The second hand on the clock ticked by. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He put the milk and eggs on the center of the counter between the dish dryer and the cutting board. Content, he turned back to me and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

And threw me out of the kitchen.

Fuck. I was still too weak to put up any resistance. My arms shot out as I tried to catch the ground.

My elbows buckled as I kissed the hardwood floor. It shot the air out from my lungs like an exploding balloon. Curse you Archer.

The pitter patter of feet stepped onto the kitchen and I looked up to see Shirou had joined the fray. Off to the side was Illya, half clinging, half hanging off of him like a newborn chimp.

The edges of my lips tugged upwards when I saw her. Illyasviel von Einzbern. I'm sorry I was too weak to save you from Gilgamesh. Shirou made the right decision in bringing you home where I could not.

I dusted myself off the ground and invited them into the kitchen.

Illya cheered as she leaped off of her mount and planted herself in the living room. She snatched the remote off the table and flickered through the thirty three channels of cartoons, news, and a scrambled one of ill repute.

"I'm making breakfast," I said.

Shirou shook his head. "No you're not. I am."

And suddenly I don't feel so proud anymore.

I walked back into the kitchen where Archer had already started to whisk the eggs into a fine batter. "This is between me and him."

Shirou pressed on, adamant this was his right. He pushed past me and stood in front of Archer. Why is everyone kicking my ass this morning? "This is my house," he said. "You two are guests."

I glanced over at Archer, who shared the same knowing look I wore. It read: is this guy serious?

Whatever, it was a peaceful morning, there's no need to fight. I threw my hands up and leaned against the pantry, content to watch the drama unfold. Shirou started a spat with Archer over whether eggs were better scrambled or sunny-side up, and whether I had already ruined breakfast before it began.

Life was good.

"Boiled."

We froze. Only the sound of igniting gas vibrated in the air. I turned towards the porch door.

Rider stood in the opening, the color of his skin livelier despite its pale complexion.

Kanshou required more prana to form then I had available. I searched around the kitchen for a weapon and grasped at a kitchen knife, feeling pathetic for having to resort to this. It would have to do.

Rider held up his remaining arm, wincing as he opened his fist. The bones in his wrist cracked as they smashed against each other. "I just want to talk."

I looked at Archer, his eyes narrowed and poised, but the rest of his body relaxed. The opposite of the rage he displayed last night. We shared a look and nodded.

"You have thirty seconds," I said.

He didn't skip a beat. "Caster has hijacked the war and is using Sakura to kick start the Heaven's Feel. I need your help."

Memories of the past came back to me. The dismantling of the system ten years after the war was when I learned of the relationship between Sakura and the Grail. She can be used as a lesser grail in case the other one was unavailable. I glanced over at Illya, who hid behind the table and stared.

But one thing bothered. I put down the knife. To what end would Caster achieve in using Sakura to summon the Grail. No. The thought came to me. The dismantling of the grail ten years after my war. Where the truth was revealed to all, the true nature of the Holy Grail. Only one thing could happen if a servant were to come so close to the sheer malevolent nature of it. "He's been corrupted."

"I believe so," Rider said, "he claims it's to destroy the Grail, but the Shadow has taken him over."

"How is this possible?" Archer leaned over the counter of the kitchen in interest. His senses as a Counter Guardian revved into overdrive.

"Caster is tethered to the Grail, he is the reason we were summoned." Rider lowered his hand and clutched at the stump of his arm. "I felt it when I entered the shadow. He intends to birth Angra Mainyu."

"Are you proposing an Alliance?"

"We have no choice."

Fighting together would be our best course of actions, especially since Caster will be extremely fresh in this war, and with a limitless pool of prana to boot. But I wondered, what circumstances would force Emiya Shirou to such extents?

I looked at Shirou, point of origin for all of our existences. He crossed his arms and squeezed his chin in thought. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place for him.

"Do any of you know the Master of Lancer?" Rider said.

I nodded, having dealt with them personally in my war. He must not have learnt the truth in his route. "Kotomine Kirei."

Rider's eyes widened. He threw his head back and let out a soft chuckle, laughing at his own private joke. "Very well," he said between fits. "I will head to the Church and return tonight. Be prepared."

"Understood."

Rider gave a short bow and slid closed the door as he left, leaving us to discuss our next course of action. How will we be able to fight such a monstrosity? But then again, fighting against a death defying abomination with not plan and a high probably cause of death is my MO.


	61. Rider IX

Rider IX

Kotomine Kirei stood in the center aisle of the church, the same bemused sneer plastered on his face. "What business do you have here, Rider?" he said, immediately knowing who I am.

"An Alliance to prevent Caster from hijacking the war." I cut to the chase.

"I'm afraid as overseer I am unable-"

I kicked one of the benched out from its posting. It flew straight out of the floor and crashed into the cloth draped altar beneath the feet of Christ. "Don't bullshit me!"

Kotomine smiled.

"I know you're a Master!" I grabbed his wrist, pulling them up to my face. Nothing. I checked the other one. Still nothing.

"As you can see, I have no command seals."

Doubt raced through my mind like a thoroughbred. Saber assured me that this was the truth. The idea that I had been misled surfaced for a moment before being crushed. He would not lie, there was no reason to, bigger things were at stake. Only one possibility remained.

Lancer was dead.

"Will that be all?" Kotomine said.

Even without a Servant he can still be useful. "Caster has taken control of Sakura and is using her as the lesser Grail. This is in complete disregard to the rules!"

"Sakura Matou is a Master in this war. I cannot interfere."

I slammed my fist into the fake Priest's stupid face.

He smashed into the ground, unmatched by the strength of a Heroic Spirit. But the smirk never left his face. He pulled himself up, unhurt.

"I don't care," I said. "I will save Sakura." I turned around to leave, hoping to find allies elsewhere. Saber, Archer, and I would not be enough to take on Caster. We were too weak. I prayed Rin would come up with something. As I pushed through the double doors of the church Kotomine spoke.

"You would forsake everything to save a girl already damned by the world?" amusement laced the tone of his voice. "Tell me, what are you doing?"

I stopped, trying to come up with a response. The words came to me."Something I should've done a long time ago."

A soft chuckle thrummed throughout the church. Kotomine laughed, the pitch growing in strength before taking him over.

I wanted to kill him.

"Very well," he said. "Lancer last went to the Hospital."

I left the church with a creeping suspicion that I just did Kotomine a favor.

Yellow police tape ran through the entrance of the Hospital, and the nurses and doctors did their best to work around the mob of cops. Dozens of blue clad officers hauled massive ice coolers out of the hospital, loading them into the back of a forensic van.

I scanned the building looking for any disturbances, any other signs of Lancer's work. A smashed up window frame swayed back and forth on the second floor. It was a start.

I shifted into my spirit form and crept towards the wall, walking around a half crushed police car with its roof smashed it. The trajectory looked correct, these two were not unrelated. I lept up, gripped my fingers onto the windowsill, and pulled myself into the room.

A fat man lay on the bed, his jeans hung over a smashed in table. I checked his wrist for the command seals. One left.

I drew a tiny needlepoint dagger from my armory and placed the tip over his heart. Without Independent Action Caster would die as soon as his prana supply ran out. It wasn't much given the circumstances, but every little step was needed.

Caster's Master morphed as I pressed down on the handle of my knife. The weight melted off his body as his balding comb over turned purple. His hair grew out and his body shrunk beneath the cloth. The fat monstrous man was gone, replaced with the image of a sixteen year old girl.

Sakura.

"Kill him," snarled a voice behind me.

I turned around to find Caster standing in front of the door. The Shadow draped over him like a robe. He crept towards me, his wicked smile unchanging. "What have you done?"

"Can you kill her? Can you kill my Master?" He stood over me, whispering into my ear. He was torturing me, reminding me of my sins.

I closed my eyes as I tried to still my shaking hands. I tried to to remember the day I killed her. The day I doomed her to die. I had just wanted to be a Hero of Justice. I wanted to save the world. That's what I told Illya.

We sat in the park in the middle of the night, listening to quiet droning of the suburban neighborhood. I sat on a bench watching Illya swing her legs back and forth in the sand. She shook her head when I told I wasn't going to abandon Kiritsugu's dream.

"You're going to cast away the woman you love for people you don't even know," she said.

I turned my mind to steel.

"I pity you Shirou. You're going to be deceiving yourself forever with that crying face of yours."

I ignored her, but I knew the truth. I went back to the church alone to confront the consequences of my decision. Rin was shocked when I told her I wasn't going to stop her, but she resolved to carry on. My biggest regret was not being there when she died. I wondered what she looked like when Rin, no I, killed her.

I looked down at the girl in the Hospital bed before me. Her breathing calm and composed, her face at peace with the world. Was this it? Did she just accept in it end?

My hand trembled as I white knuckled the grip of the dagger. This is not her, I told myself.

"I'm sorry," I screamed as I slammed the blade down into her heart. Blood gurgled from her mouth as she spasmed. Her eyes shot open, the look of shock showed on her face before clarity sank in.

Please scream.

Please hate me.

She smiled as the last drops of life left her body, never taking her eyes off me.

I turned towards Caster and stabbed him in the heart with all my anger. Grief and despair roiled through me like a pinball. My legs shook as I leaned into him for support.

But Caster just laughed as his body disintegrated into ash. The pieces scattered out the window and back into the heart of Fuyuki city. A familiar. He was mocking me.

I dragged myself out of the hospital, too emotionally drained to look at the result of my handiwork. Caster's laugh rang in my ear the entire time I was leaving.


	62. Interlude X

Interlude X

"You are Emiya Kiritsugu now. There is no way you cannot win."

Kotomine's last words to me played like a Walkman on repeat as I stared over the bridge connecting the two halves of Fuyuki city. The pale purple haze of the sky reflected against the rising sun in the distance, and I began to wonder how long have I been standing here. I wiped the morning dew off my face; she has been dead for at least five hours.

That was the first payment I made in order to become my ideal. In order to become a Hero of Justice. And it was my responsibility as a hero to end the war. My mind drifted back to Kotomine, he was right, Kiritsugu and I are the same. We had made the same decision, to sacrifice our happiness to save the lives of others. So sacrifice the one for the many.

What was one girl against the fate of the world?

It was the correct choice, she was another Master in this war, she had to be stopped, and right now she would be chopping fresh vegetables in the kitchen.

I tried desperately to make the memories go away, to cast it aside, but the harder I tried bury it the more forceful it was when it resurfaced. I gripped at the railing with all my might, until the blood drained from my hands as my knuckles grew pale and white.

No. Make it stop!

I saw the inside of a classroom lit by the warm reddish glow of the evening sun. In the corner of my vision was pink ribbon tied into a little bow in a strand of purple hair. She held a little teacup in both hands as she stared out the window with that sad blank look of hers.

She had grown beautiful.

Time passed slowly between us, and I sat back to enjoy the quiet evening when I noticed the tiny curve of a smile on her lips.

"Do you remember?" she muttered.

"Remember what?"

"Back before I met you, four years ago. Right when I first entered this school."

"..."

"It was after school, right after the track team had left, and someone was running around alone. When I came closer I realized he was doing high jumps by himself." Her somber smile grew. It must've been a happy memory.

I sipped at my tea and leaned in closer to better hear her. The tiny rhythmic beat of her heart played in the background as she told her story.

"He continued to run alone, running, jumping, dropping the pole, and repeating. No one was around and he kept failing, but never stopped trying."

Her smile dropped, a tinge of shame in the back of her eye.

"I was a bad girl back then," she said.

I placed my tea cup down, the swirling mist of steam blew into the wind as it cooled. I wanted to reach out and tell her that she shouldn't think like that, but I couldn't muster the courage.

"Something bad happened to me, and I wanted to take it out on someone. I wanted to see him fail. But he never gave up. He repeated it over and over, never giving up, even though it was impossible for him."

"Maybe he had a competition?"

She shook her head. "He wasn't on the track team. While I was watching him, I realized. He didn't care about what he was doing. He just happened to run into something he couldn't do, and he didn't want to lose. When the sun set, and he just cleaned up and went home, like nothing happened."

"Did he jump over it?"  
"Aha," she giggled. "He tried for 3 hours, but he was convinced at last that he couldn't jump over it"

I sighed. "That's some ending."

Sakura leaned in a little closer, the warm air of her breath tickled my lips. "I started to worry about him. But despite the way it looked to me, it was just an everyday thing to him."

"Uh, so that was..." The gears in my mind churned, and the truth finally dawned on the surface of my dull mind.

She turned towards me with a radiant smile, small at first, pressing against her rosy cheeks, before revealing her teeth like a perfect pearl necklace. Finally it reached her eyes, lighting them up, causing them to crinkle in the corners.

My chest tightened as I felt an intense blood rush in my head. The teacup clattered against the windowsill as I tried to still my trembling hands.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice as soft as silk. "I've known Senpai since that long."

My vision blurred into a bitter watery haze as reality flooded back to me. The dreadful bridge in the heart of the city, far and away from the classroom in my dreams. I leaned against the railing for support, calm and composed, despite my shortness of breath. I have gone too far now to give up.

I can't let such simple thoughts hold me back from my ideals. What was one girl against the fate of the world? If she wanted to haunt me, to invade and fester in the corner of my mind...

I will let her.

I will turn my mind to steel.

I will steel the mind.

And kill the heart.


	63. Shirou X

Shirou X

I tried to deny the creeping realization of the war and its simple nature out of fear for the the reality it presented. The truth terrified me, shook my very essence, and I did everything I could to run away from it.

"Scrambled," Archer said.

"Sunny-side up."

We fought over the kitchen, and busied ourselves by cooking breakfast. The overheated pan awaited its delivery of eggs as it simmered over an open flame. I wondered how we could be so similar, but have a simple disagreement over nothing.

I shook my head and cracked the eggs over the pan, enjoying his sulking face as the whites and yolk solidified over the burning heat. Archer stabbed at them with a spatula, trying to shatter the thin membrane that held the yolk together and achieve his own victory.

I swung the pan away.

He kept at it, toying with me, having fun as I struggled against him. They were just eggs.

In honesty I didn't know why I cared so much, usually I was just happy to cook regardless of what it was. Whatever my friends wanted I wanted, I cooked for them, not myself. But this was different, defiance for defiance's sake.

Was this even about the eggs anymore? This was just another distraction. It didn't matter how they turned out, the ingredients are still same.

Archer stopped.

"Boiled." I heard from behind me.

I turned.

Rider stood at the door, his face bright and fresh with his red hair greying. He offered an alliance to the others before leaving to find Lancer. The way he spoke with Archer and Saber, the tone of familiarity between them. No posturing or games, straight to the chase, an immediate understanding.

I knew why.

I shut my eyes, trying to deny it. The idea of it was too much. The implications too great. The thought that my ideals could be so warped. I finished the eggs and toasted the bread.

I could pretend no longer.

A flurry of images flashed in my mind. Archer, Saber, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Berserker; vivid and familiar, like watching your life on replay. Was this the path laid before me? Was this my future? To be anchored to the sinking ship of my ideals as I drowned with them?

Rin burst me from my thoughts as she slammed open the door and half dragged herself into the living room. With a yawn she scratched at her frazzled bed hair and sat down besides Illya. She smiled at the three of us before realizing the seriousness of our expressions.

"Rider was just here," I said as I moved the plates from the kitchen and onto the table. Saber and I gathered around while Archer stood by the door.

"I thought as much," Rin said as she stabbed the yolk with a fork. "What did he want?"  
"An alliance," Saber took care to seat himself directly across from Rin. "Caster has hijacked the war and is using Sakura as the Lesser Grail."

I froze. Sakura, what did Saber mean by that?

Rin dropped the fork, her expression neutral. "I see."

A sense of recognition settled between the two, as if nothing more needed to be said. I was missing out on something. How did he know this, and how was Sakura involved?

"He's gone to find Lancer." Saber played with his food, jokingly trying to steal some off of Illya's plate. There was a sense of timelessness between the two, like he's trying to play catch up.

Illya paused, frowning. "Lancer's dead," she said.

How did she know that?

Saber's smile grew weak, but it wasn't a look of shock, like it was obvious how she knew. What was his relationship with Illya and Rin?

Thousands of questions sped through my mind, all pointing towards the obvious. Questions with only one answer. The answer I knew. The answer I refused to acknowledge.

I glanced at Saber. Behind his eyes burnt a soft flame, like the light of a worn out cave. It did not roar, it did not flare, but it burnt brightly with a passion, no matter how low it was. The one respite it in a hollowed out cave.

They were different than the others.

I thought of Rider. Nothing lived in those caves. Maybe something had once, but amidst the scattering ash were only the piles of bones and the scribbling on the walls. How do I avoid just a fate? What made Saber different? What path did he choose?

Saber paused when he noticed me staring. He tried to speak, but I beat him to it.

I asked him.

"Who am I?"


	64. Caster VI

Caster VI

Semi-translucent flesh bubbled and pulsed along the surface of a foreboding, shadow wreathed tower. I had seen it so many times before, following me from a distant horizon. Judging me with its crushing presence even when I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the fire-licked world around me. But then it had only be a dark presence, some ghostly distant hell that I could never draw closer to.

I had never seen it like this, never seen the _thing_ that slumbered within, ready to be birthed into the world. The tower I had seen had been a nexus, the convergent point of a sterile fire that had wiped the "sins" of a world clean. What towered before me instead was a womb and through its confines I could see eyes that bore holes into my soul, even in the dark corner of my own mind that had become my prison.

 _It_ paced around Sakura, whispering insidious words to her. I had never wanted this, never wanted to use her like _this_. Or did I? How long had this parasite been festering inside my own psyche? I did not know. Had it always been there? Waiting patiently as I slowly but surely carried out what it wanted like a puppet.

I could not be sure-could never be sure-what was and was not my own thoughts.

 _It_ snickered at me, laughed at my despair as it crouched down and ran a finger along Sakura's neckline sending a shiver down her spine and red tendrils of corruption creeping further along her face.

The cavern rumbled as shadows shoot across the floor, twisting and turning like a swarm of snakes. _It_ evaluated the change and smiled, satisfied with its handiwork. I could hear _its_ thoughts, its smug confidence that everything was going according to _its_ design.

Sakura had been its goal all along, a means to an end. _It_ kindled her insecurities, her hatred, her spurned love, her anger, her sorrow. And in doing so the Grail had found a conduit, an instrument of its will, but _it_ wanted something else.

 _It_ may be a vestige of the dark tower from my world, but it had no control over its double in this world. Sakura was a tool to be used, nothing more than a glorified prana battery to provide _it_ access to the near infinite source of prana at the heart of the Grail system. With it _it_ could accomplish its ultimate, disgustingly simple goal. A goal that I was responsible for.

 _It_ laughed again.

I made to flex my fingers, to clench my fist in frustration, but again I found no response. I was little more than a passive observer in my own body, the puppet dancing on the puppeteer's strings.

"Matou Sakura, you will be the means by which this world is saved," _it_ said as it forced her to her knees.

 _It_ gestured with _its_ hand in a pattern immediately recognizable to me, one that I had crafted in a moment of weakness where nary a glimmer of hope was left to light my way.

In a flurry of ethereal sparks an intricately designed porcelain urn appeared in front of _it_ , its surface emblazoned with the images of those that I had failed to save during the course of my Grail War-Rin, Illya, and Taiga among many others.

 _It_ removed the urn cover, tossing it cruelly aside and reaching deep into its interior. _It_ returned to Sakura, unflinching and unblinking in her crouched state, a fist covered in a fine, gray ash. _It_ forced its hand against her face, chanting powerful words of magic, leaving behind a gray handprint.

The writhing snakes of shadow converged on the two, fighting in a mass along the ground just beneath their feet even as _it_ turned _its_ attention back to the urn. _It_ grabbed it violently, ripping it from its place in the air and overturned its contents.

Screams. The impossibly large cavern filled with the screams of billions of lost souls. Ash flowed onto the ground as _it_ traced a circular path around Sakura and the mass of shadows. The screams continued to grow. My work, my tribute to the dead was being perverted. Their screams of agony reached even my prison and I cried out in voiceless rage. I raged and raged even as the last grains of ash fell from the urn and completed the circle.

Then there was a silence, a terrible and oppressive silence that drowned all that it touched.

The shadows were ripped apart and drawn towards the ashes, their dark existence seeping into the granules of a dead world.

There was a shrill cackle and then a fit of laughter that threatened to overtake its owner. Sakura stared wide-eyed upwards, staring at something only she could see. Her body spasmed and twitched until the very last drops of shadow had been consumed by ash.

 _It_ stretched its limbs as a link was established to Sakura, feeling out the ebb and flow of the power it had just acquired.

And then _they_ appeared.

Horribly deformed mockeries of human beings grasped and ripped their way out of ground, the ashen circle the epicenter. Where my familiars had been but faceless mannequins give a false life, these _things_ wore skins of shadow as though a monster trying to disguise itself as human, but having no reference point.

They roared and twisted, black, sinewy muscles rippling as they cried out in anguish. Their faces were contorted in expressions that mocked the images of individuals I had once known in another lifetime. With a high pitched shriek the swarm of corrupted ashen familiars stampeded towards the entrance of the cavern, bidden forward no doubt by _its_ mental commands. Yet still more emerged from the ground as though an army of the dead and damned had been awoken.

What I had once made to quiet my sorrow, a method to cope with my crippling loneliness, now a tool to bring despair. My ashes of creation turned towards destruction.

"An impressive feat, Caster," a sullen voice said.

 _It_ turned towards the direction of the voice, towards the intruder into this inner sanctum.

There stood the fake priest, Kotomine Kirei, attired in his priestly garb.

"I am impressed. There are not many that could bypass my bounded fields and approach me undetected," _it_ said. "Mayhaps I should have the intruder removed."

The horde of corrupted familiars turned as one towards the priest.

"But I would have you answer a question first, I think."

The priest closed his eyes and smiled, as though reflecting on something.

"Then you need simply ask. For I am a humble clergyman of the faith I am bound to answer in honesty," Kotomine said.

"For what reason have you come, priest?"

Kotomine's expression tightened in a look of consternation.

"I have come to watch the birth of the being held within the Holy Grail," he said.

"And why have you done this? Even at a glance you must realize that many millions will die within moments of its birth."

"I seek its birth to understand my own nature," the priest said succinctly.

 _It_ seemed to consider the priest's answer for a moment as the sound of the monster's heartbeat thrummed.

"Then I shall allow your presence," _it_ turned _its_ gaze inwards towards me, "you shall be witness as I bring _peace_ to this world and all others."


	65. Archer VII

Archer VII

"Sakura won't last one more day," Illya sat with her legs dangling over the bed.

"I see," Rin hid her cracking facade in work as she scrounged up the remaining half dozen gems she possessed. She wore the mask of a tough magus, but I knew she could never live with the death of her sister. Caster has forced our hand.

We had moved into Rin's room in order to strategize for tonight's battle, but it proved to be impossible. We were too weak from fighting. And if Rider was correct, Caster will have unlimited access to the Grail's prana reserves.

Illya hopped off the bed and landed in the center of the room. She spoke in an ominous tone. "Avenger will be born soon."

"Avenger?" I asked. I never heard of this class of Servant before, even during my war.

Illya recounted the story of the third Grail War and the Einzbern's illegal attempt at summoning an eight Servant. Angra Mainyu, the embodiment of all the evils of the world, which polluted and corrupted the Grail. Now it wants to be born; to destroy the world in its wake.

I thought about Caster and his corruption, the misery and torment he would have to endure. To see nothing, but suffering and to be broken by the evils of the world he wanted to protect. In the end it proved too much.

Rin crossed her arms in intense thought, trying to come up with something. A brief moment of clarity flashed in her eyes, before she grit her teeth. She didn't like it.

"I guess I have no choice." she sighed, as if admitting defeat. "Illya, I need your help."

"Oh?" a mischievous grin grew on her face.

"I need you to help Archer project the Gem Sword of Zelretch."

"I see," Illya said. "You want my memories."

"Yes. I have the blueprints, a sort of family homework, with those two we should be able to create a copy."

"Let me see it," I said.

Illya walked over to me and placed a hand on my forehead. A pale white light blinded my vision, replaced by a series of overlapping circuits. I dug deeper into it. I see a pale white girl in the center; Lizleihi Justizia von Einzbern, the Winter Saint. I pulled back, looking at the man in front of her. He has a dagger in his hand.

I see it, a ritual dagger with a jeweled blade. Its kaleidoscopic gleam sears through my eye and into my brain. I can't analyze it. It is alien technology, I can only imitate its shape. But maybe, with Rin's help I should be able to make some magic. There was just one problem.

"I don't have enough prana," I admitted, the memories faded as I returned to the room. "We would need to use something as a base."

Rin nodded and returned to her thoughts, trying to come up with a solution. "The Azoth sword."

I nodded. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would work.

But then Rin turned to me, her eyes downcast and half expectant. She found another complication.

I knew immediately.

The Azoth sword was left behind in the Tohsaka Mansion when Rider destroyed it.

I sighed. Something told me this wasn't going to be a simple fetch quest. "I guess I'll just have to go get it then."

I dug through the charred ruins of the Tohsaka Mansion, admiring the way Rider's destruction left a permanent scar in the leylines of Fuyuki City. It let loose a faint radiant glow of magical energy so oppressive that even non-magi must have felt it. And they must have, for the streets were clear and free of life when I entered the neighborhood. Either the inhabitants felt the disturbance and moved, or they had already been devoured.

Only Rin's basement remained intact, with everything above the foundation destroyed in a chain reaction of magical discharge. I scavenged a few jewels amidst the dusty tomes and found the Azoth sword embedded in a moth chewed couch.

I pulled it out, admiring its construction, crafted from a collection of the Tohsaka family's most precious jewels. This was what I came for. I pocketed the sword and crept up the stairs into the night sky.

A chill ran through the air, and I felt an imminent danger converging on my location.

There! Movement in the distance.

Crawling through the street were a mob of shadowy wisps, malformed blobs of prana and ash. Caster's familiars. But these were different, and my heart sunk into the pit of my stomach when I examined them closely. They were no longer empty silhouettes, instead taking on human shapes like some sort of modern art reject. Hair sprouted from odd locations, with misplaced eyes and teeth in all the wrong places. A twisted face even quasimodo would reject. They closed in from all sides, scrambling through the streets.

I cursed my bad luck and eschewed my cloak. I forced myself low to the ground behind an overturned table, the black of my armor blending in with its charred remains. Why the creatures were here I didn't know, perhaps Caster was onto me, but it complicated matters.

They sifted through the trashcans and gutters, draping themselves in newspapers and rotted fabric like clothes. They broke into the houses in packs of four or five, scouring from room to room. I heard no screams or reactions, empty houses, all of them.

I slid up onto the speckled tile of a nearby roof and watched a group across the street through the tinted windows. What I saw unnerved me.

They sat around the table like a family, plates and dishes of rotten wood, shoes, and other trash in front of them. They tried desperately to eat, gnawing on the inedible fabric of their meals. Morsels of tasteless matter filled their stomachs, but left them unfulfilled. Ashened tears fell from their misangled eyes as they unleashed a ghastly wail into the night.

A darkness fell over the corner of my vision. A score of shadows leapt at my side, their mouths open and hungering for death. Kanshou and Bakuya were in my hands, and I slashed them down. I leapt onto the next rooftop only for the unending wave to crash against the house.

Dozens of them splashed onto the roof, I cut them down in haste, and waded through the crowd to the next ledge. But it was no good. For every one I destroyed ten more took it's place. It was a losing battle.

I looked around me, into their empty decrying eyes. I knew what they wanted, with their haunting wails looping their way through my head the entire time. There was no way through them.

But I still had a mission to complete. I gripped the hilt of the Azoth sword and spun my body to face the house. I didn't need to aim it, for I knew where it would go. The sword leapt from my hands as the darkness consume me.

But it was no matter, for even the darkness couldn't extinguish the joy that I felt.


	66. Shirou XI

Shirou XI

"Who are you, Saber?" I finally asked. The question had gnawed away at me for so long I forgot it existed.

Silence.

He leaned over the table in the living room, looking over his equipment in preparation for tonight's fight against Caster. He tapped his assortment of smoke grenades and flares with his three fingered hand before stuffing them into his vest. Rin and Illya left earlier, having read the room, and took Archer with them. Caster would not be an easy opponent to defeat and they needed a plan.

I was left alone to confront myself.

Some part of me wanted to shake Saber down and demand an answer, but I already knew it. I was afraid of the truth and wanted him to tell me otherwise. To lie to me. Like I have been all this time.

"Saber." I clenched my fists underneath the table. I can't give up now.

He snuck a glance at me before turning back to his display on the table. I assumed he didn't want to tell me because it would force him to confront the consequences of his actions as well. He mouthed some words under his breath, but I didn't catch it. I stared at him, demanding he speak up. This was it.

"I am Emiya Shirou," he finally said.

My heart stops. It goes dark and I have the feeling that I'm going to faint. I see a mirror image of myself twist into a kaleidoscopic nightmare before my chest comes roaring back with a thunderous thud. I clutched my trembling knees and leaned onto the table for support. I can no longer run from it. "Then you've been through this before."

"Yes," he nods. As a Heroic Spirit he is removed from the flow of time. He tells me about his war, but it was different, the Servants were not the same. His Servant was also Saber, Arthuria Pendragon and somehow King Arthur.. She taught him how to fight, and Rin taught him how to live. Together they defeated Gilgamesh and won the War, and in the process saved Archer's soul, or so he thought.

"So Archer was the same?" I wondered about the Counter Guardian who sold his soul to the Earth. Despite being betrayed in life he still formed a contract with Alaya to fight for his ideals after the grave. He clung to them through the countless cycles of death and despair only to find himself broken and betrayed. Was he who I was doomed to become?

"We clashed over our ideals," Saber lit up a cigarette as he stared off into space, nostalgic over something. "He wanted to convince me to give up trying to become a Hero."

He took a deep drag, tasting the smoke, before continuing with his story. The beat Archer and spent the rest of his live striving to become a Hero of Justice. He fought over the world, from Beirut to Rio and Bangkok to Moscow, to right the wrongs of Humanity. But it was a never ending battle, a revolving door of despair.

Saber dropped his cigarette into an ash filled tin of chewing tobacco. The smoke from the smouldering limp cigarette lingered in the air before snuffing itself out amidst the remains of other limp cigarettes.

Am I doomed to become one of them? I was so blind, so driven to accomplish my goals I never looked into them at all. I never asked myself why I wanted to save everyone.

"You can't save everyone, Shirou, but..." he placed his right hand on my shoulder, sensing my doubts. The silver ring he now wore on it flashed in the corner of my eye. "The pursuit of the ideal is beautiful all the same."

Saber smiled as he pulled out a picture and placed it on the table, the tint of joy twinkled in the back of his eye. A happy family with two young children, a little girl with curly black hair and a crying baby. People who would never leave his side, even when he wanted them to. But the smile soon faded.

He still died on that hill of swords, his ideals carrying him out to the end. The core aspect of the broken being that is Emiya Shirou never goes away.

"And what about Rider?" I thought about him, the one worse off than the rest, who shambled like the empty vessel of a half dead dream.

"Rider is haunted by the choices he made," Saber said.

Sakura came to mind, Rider's true Master, who has suffered all this time. The weight of shame for being so blind chained me to the foundation. I was too focused on Shinji to see the obvious, the jealousy and hatred he had for for her, born from the usurpation of his "birthright." Had Rider figured it out before I did? Was that what killed him?

"Could you have made the choices he did?" I asked Saber.

"I would try to save everyone, but," he lit up another cigarette and hung his head in shame, "I might have."

Were there no differences between them, a shared ideal and core, with only the challenges presented to them unique? If one was swapped for the other would anything have changed? I stood up and walked towards the door, trying to gather my thoughts.

"So we are all the same."" I said with my hand on the door.

Silence. So I was right.

"What should I do?"

Saber took a long drag from his cigarette. "I'm afraid I can't help you," he said. "I can't tell you what to do or change who you are; Who we are. All I can do is help you choose your own path."

I stepped out of the living room for the porch, thinking of the various paths laid before me. The roads not taken and the boundless detours, shortcuts, and tourist traps on the highway of death. How could I avoid them?

I sat down on the porch in the same spot five years ago when Kiritsugu died. He told me he wanted to be a superhero when he was growing up, he wanted to save the world. And I promised him before he died I would do the same.

It had nothing to do with surviving the fire, guilt at having survived where so many others died. No, I wanted to experience the same joy as my father when he saved me. That look of joy when he pulled one person from hell. Just one life was all he needed to save himself. I envied it. I wanted it. And I denied it for so long. Emiya Shirou is the master of self delusion.

The truth was not that Emiya Shirou was doomed because he held onto his ideals. He was doomed because he held onto Kiritsugu's ideals.

Emiya Shirou must forge his own dreams. 


	67. Saber X

Saber X

I found myself searching through Shirou's liquor cabinet for something to dull the pain. Something to distract me from the nagging sickness I felt. It seems that despite Rin's efforts, the end was inevitable. The damage done to my core too severe.

A bottle of Pierre Ferrand Grande sat nestled behind a case of Sake. I pulled it out by the handle, and placed it on the kitchen counter alongside a fresh tumbler. The sound of crackling ice whispered in my ear as I poured the dark amber brandy into the glass.

I pulled it up to my lips with the gentle grip of my left hand, careful not to disturb it. The strong waft of alcohol assaulted my nose as I took a sip, admiring the flavoring hint of Limousin Oak in the spirit.

"Hmph," I chuckled, enjoying the humor of finding myself drinking alone. Everyone else had gone to determine a strategy for defeating Caster, writing me off as dead. It hurt, for Emiya Shirou is not one to let a thing like death slow him down.

Still, I enjoyed the peace of a quiet drink, though I wished for company. My mind wandered back to first time I tried Brandy, this exact bottle in fact.

I had found Rin sitting in the hallway outside the spare bedroom just after the Grail War ended. She invited me to sit down and join her, a little celebration to our victory. I was surprised, this clashed with the image of her I had in my head, but I obeyed.

"Isn't that mine?" I said. Fuji-nee usually brought alcohol over, some I used for cooking, the rest collected dust until she got around to drinking them.

"Tell you what," she said with that mischievous grin of hers as she popped open the bottle, "next time you come over to my place you can have one of mine."

I didn't quite understand the subtext at the time.

"Here." She pushed the glass into my hand."

"Tohsaka, there's only one."

"Don't worry about it, it's hard alcohol."

"I guess," I drank it, still not getting it. The sweet burn of brandy gushed all the way down my throat, and I almost spilt it onto my pants as I gagged.

Rin laughed as she took the glass from me and placed the soft cusp of her lips onto the edge. She took a sip and swirled the liquid in her mouth for a second to enjoy the flavor before swallowing.

I gulped, noticing the sweat collecting in the palm of my hands. I pretended it was the alcohol.

She leaned in closer with a refilled glass. My turn.

We spent the rest of the night finishing that bottle, and I swear nothing illicit happened.

I finished my glass, and moved to pour myself another one. I hoped the Shirou of this reality will be able to experience such happy memories. In the end it was up to him, his convictions must carry him through.

The door to the living room slid open. Rider shambled through with his half dead swagger. I offered him a drink.

"No," he said, "it's time."

"Excellent."

Time to die.


	68. Interlude IX

Interlude IX

Dust and ash kicked into the air with every step through the blasted hellscape. Where was I going? What was I doing? There was nothing left; of this much I was certain. I had clung to the naive hope that there was may still be someone out there. Some pocket of survivors that had survived the inferno that even now continued to rage across the lands.

I was only fooling myself.

The Grail had taken everything from me. All I wanted was an end to bloodshed, an end to petty fighting. By the end of the War my hands were stained by the blood of those I had killed, those that I had failed to save. I was tired and broken.

I wanted peace.

The Grail granted that wish.

Now there is nothing save ash from a dried out husk of a dead world and the howling of a wind never before heard.

 _You did this._

The stump where my left arm used to be ached. A suitable opening sacrifice for the birth of a new god.

I tightened the ash-caked shawl that wrapped my upper torso and arm and looked up. _It_ was still there, looming over the horizon. Always there, always watching. A dark, phantasmal tower that dominated the landscape, dwarfing the twisted metal spires of civilization.

Regret. Hate. Rage.

Why don't you just let me die?

 _You must be punished for your sins._

My phantom arm thumped, thumped, thumped in pain.

I took refuge in the remains of a playground, one of many such headstones dedicated to the world that was. I sat on a merry-go-round, brushing the accumulated ash away like a fine snow. I motioned with my hand, a magical gesture that I'd come across during my studies of the myriad magical tomes that had survived the fiery scouring.

The only thing that had come from all of this was my vast improvement with magecraft. It was not even limited to improvement over simple spells that I had felt impossible to cast before. Where once I had been a mockery of a mage, not even befitting the title, now I stood at the apex mastering spells that would have had even a mage such as Tohsaka mouth agape. The cost had only been the whole of the human race. Magic is strong when there is only one living thing to use it in all the world after all.

A few drops of water, then almost a torrent. I'd almost think that it could wash away my mistakes.

 _Can never wash away your mistakes._

If I'd only known about the Grail's corruption, I would not have made the wish. I would have ordered Saber to destroy it. She would have had prana enough for one last use of Excalibur I would think.

I smiled.

Saber.

With any hope the Grail did not pervert her wish as it had mine. Did her soul manage to travel back to her time? Was her kingdom able to find someone else instead of her to lead it?

It's funny, really. Here I was wasting away in my own personal hell and yet I was transfixed on the idea that someone who was long since dead had been saved from hers.

"There is one way to escape this hell."

Who said that?

I looked up, having been cradling my head with my hand.

A young woman, blonde of hair and with green eyes adorned in regal blue with gold trimming stood before me untouched by the rain of ash.

"S-Saber?"

 _Only one way to escape._

She smiled at me as a gentle expression washed over her face.

"I… never wanted any of this, Saber."

 _Liar._

My phantom arm began to burn. I gritted my teeth in agony, clawing at the invisible limb.

"I just… I just want to escape from all of this." I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks.

"You can."

I froze.

"W-what?"

Saber's face gleamed in sympathy, the only ray of light in a dark world.

I struggled with what to say next. Alone for so long. Trapped for so long. How. How. How do I escape? How. How. How. How.

"Tell me how."

Saber extended her porcelain hands towards me and grasped my good hand in her palms, drawing it towards her chest. I could feel it, the thumping of her heart in her chest. The coursing of blood through her veins. Saber had been an anomaly in the War, a Servant that was neither dead nor alive, but something caught in between.

Of course.

OF COURSE!

I can escape this world. I can escape it the same way that Saber sent her soul into the future. Obvious, so obvious now. I had command over magic the likes of which only true sorcerers previously had. I had an undying lifetime of accumulated knowledge and experience.

I could do this.

Saber must have noticed the hope and excitement that I surely wore on my face, because she began to squeeze my hand harder.

"I can show you the way, a way out of this fate of your own making."

Of course, the course of action is clear now.

I squeezed Saber's hands back. She was so pure, too pure for this world. She was clean, as though all the evils of this world avoided her altogether.

I took a breath and focused, reaching deep within my mind. The concept was easy, the system was all still there, preserved and unbroken. All I had to do was grab hold of it. Child's play.

The world behind Saber warped and bent, but I could see glimpses of a dark void where its form stilled for just a moment. Yes, I could do this!

"It's unstable at the moment, but I think I can do this, Saber." I smiled for the first time in a long time as the tear in the world stabilized. "It's time to go home, Saber."

Her grin grew as she led me towards my salvation.

"Yes, it's time to go home, Shirou."

 _It's time to face your sins._


	69. Saber XI

Saber XI

One by one we squeezed past the jagged rocks at the entrance to the cave, and descended into the shadows below. I lit up a flare and handed it over to Rider as he blazed a path into the center of the Earth. He had led us to the side of Mount Enzo using information from the experience of his own Grail War. He knew the perfect womb for Angra Mainyu to gestate. For underneath Ryuudou temple was a vast cavern anchored into the Fuyuki Ley lines.

We followed the spiraling path before us as we ventured hundreds of meters in the darkness. The atmosphere grew more and more oppressive as we carried on, and the air was so thick with prana I wanted to vomit; enough to keep the Clock Tower running for centuries. But Rider continued on, stoic and unnerved by the changes.

"We're almost there." He dropped the flare among the eerie green glow of luminescent moss.

The path before us opened into a larger cavern, wide enough to house a football pitch. A pale warm wind blew past us as we marched into the vast expanse.

A sense of foreboding slammed me in the gut and I nearly tripped over a jagged rock spire erupting from the ground. The darkness shifted in the distance. The breeze of prana gushed through them as they flickered like a scrambled channel on an old television set.

Marching out from the void was an army of shadowy wisps, Caster's familiars; but these were different. Infused with the Grail they took on human shapes, the naked silhouettes of a long dead person. Hair and eyes grew from inappropriate places, and the mouths on their faces hung open as if to lament their own existences.

And at the front of the formation lead Berserker and Assassin. I shuttered as I noticed the bright red veins running up their now pale skin.

"They've been corrupted," Rider said matter of fact.

I assumed he had seen this before, maybe knew a way to deal with it, but instead he frowned. Fighting Berserker four on one was an arduous task itself, a Grail corrupted one at full power would be impossible. And even if we were to defeat them we would not have enough strength for Caster.

Defeat laid in the way, blocked by an army devoted to the single minded purpose of delaying us. With a half dead Servant and another on death's door, there was no way we could go through them.

Only one option presented itself, we would have to go around them. And someone would have to distract them long enough for the others to cut through the shadows.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Rider, who had reached the same conclusions. I smiled as I walked on ahead and prayed we would cross paths again in the future. It was funny really, sacrificing myself for the sake of others without a shred of doubt.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Saber!" Rin screamed from behind me, having figured it out, but I kept on walking, unwilling to face her one last time. I was always a coward.

"Shirou, take care," I said as I walked away. I had done all I could for him and wished him the best of luck. Like children all one can do is instill your values and hopes in them, and when the time came you let them go. Maybe I'll see Abby and Malcolm one last time.

We split up, the others would cut through a weaker section while I took care of the main body. I stepped towards Berserker and Assassin, taking my sweet time to size them up. Gone was the unmistakable aura of Emiya Shirou, the single minded drive to stand up against the world. I saw only the dead husk of broken men.

And the shadows they lead were nothing more than the flash burnt images of long dead souls; unsaved and unmourned. They tightened the noose around me as they shambled forth.

I gripped the flare gun holstered at my side and pulled out a knife from the scabbard on my boot.

My only regret was that I won't be able to save them.


	70. Rider XI

Rider XI

"This cavern is huge!" Shirou said as we exited the system of tunnels and made our way into an impossibly large cavity in the earth. "How could no one have noticed this was here?"

"Concealing magic left by the original creators of the Grail, probably," Rin said clutching the Jewelled sword to her chest. "And quiet down a bit, Shirou, I'm trying to think."

"Think of what?" Shirou said.

"Of a plan you idiot," Rin spat, "we're only four strong now. Adding to that, if Saber isn't able to delay the black Servants and Caster's familiars long enough, we'll be exposed at the rear as well."

She sighed.

"I wish Archer were still here. It would at least even the odds a bit more."

"He'll hold them," Shirou said.

Rin span around and glared at Shirou as though he were a child, his naivety overwhelming. She seemed to consider chiding him for his foolish belief, before stopping herself.

Shirou, to his credit, did not back down.

"He _will_ stop them."

"And how are you so confident in his ability to do so, Emiya Shirou?" I said.

Saber was a dead man walking, he was a man barely stitched together by what little prana reserves he had left. Though, I am one to talk. My own body was not too far removed from the state Saber was in, the only difference being my intact connection to Sakura. I wouldn't be surprised if even Saber's core was more damaged than he let on. He felt like that kind of fool.

The damage was so self-evident that even Shirou would be able to tell. No, because of his connection to Saber, he would be able to tell the extent of Saber's injuries better than anyone else.

So why? Why does his belief in his Servant not waver?

Shirou flashed me a smile.

"Because it's what I would do in his place even if it killed me in the end."

"Foolish child."

He smiled even as Rin kicked gravel at him in a fit.

"What's the matter, Rin?"

A faint blush crawled across her face and she span around in a humph.

"Forget it. Let's re-focus," she gestured the Jeweled Sword towards a raised plateau further into the cavern, drawing attention to a tower of rippling flesh that seemed to dominate even this impossible cavern by its mere presence, "that must be the Grail made manifest. Sakura is probably there along with Caster. We have to get there and even if Saber is able to stop the enemy at our rear, I haven't the slightest doubt that Caster has prepared a trap for us."

I marched forward with a purpose. The Grail was our target, it was so simple. All the suffering, all the bloodshed, traced back to a magical construct made to grant wishes. This _thing_ caused Sakura's suffering. In this moment I am ashamed, deeply and irrevocably. In my life, had I even stopped to think for a moment, would I have found myself in this cavern surrounded by my own allies to save somebody? Would _my_ Sakura have had to die? Would anyone have had to die if I had only stopped myself for the briefest of moments?

It will not happen again. I won't allow it to.

"Rider! Wait, we don't have a plan!" Rin shouted. "We could be walking into a trap!"

Kanshou appeared in my right hand, its black patterned surface gleaming in the dull eldritch light of the cavern, as I continued my march forward uninterrupted.

"Take a look at the ground leading up to the Grail, there is no doubt that it is a trap." I said. It was hard to see, imperceptible almost to even my own reinforced vision. But shimmering throughout the ground in a tide of black were shadows, living, moving shadows ready to meet their prey.

"There is no strategy here. We either break through or we die."

The natural lighting of the cavern was blasted away by flashes of prana shooting from Rin's Jewelled Sword, carving through earth and enemy alike.

They had appeared just as expected. Hundreds of them at first, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands. A monsoon of the very same distorted aberrations that we had sacrificed Saber to delay now threatened to overwhelm us.

Illya and Rin sprung into action. Two pairs of glowing white lines that resembled doves materialized in her hands. They cut across the fields of ashen shadows under cover of Rin's Jewelled sword.

Arcs of light destroyed them in their wake. Some fell in twos, others collapsed, but most exploded into a storm of soulful dust that infested the air.

Yet, no matter how much they destroyed, more surged forward to fill in the ranks as though ants diving into an open wound.

Shirou was there, armed with his own traced copies of Kanshou and Bakuya, fending off anything to got too close to her; the two of them in constant motion trying to navigate through the rivers of mad creatures.

Let us hope that Emiya Shirou has learned something during his time with Saber. Anything less than his best would no doubt result in their deaths.

I hacked out a cough as I lunged through a cloud of ash, Kanshou spearing through the torso of one of Caster's familiars. My legs kicking to swing my momentum, maneuvering in time to cleave clean through two more thad been trying to pounce on my exposed back. Even before their bodies began to dissipate back into a fine black powder I was already off, shifting my weight to the tips of my boots as I bounded through whatever exposed gaps there were in their ranks, navigating through this maze of the dead and damned in a mad dash to get to the Grail before I was buried beneath the tide.

There was no stopping me, not now, not while there was a mistake I could finally right after all these years. The mob shifted, closing all around me. No matter, where there was a barrier, I would smash it down. Keep the momentum, keep moving, and stay alive.

The sounds of combat grew fainter behind me, I had made some distance from the duo of Rin and Shirou. They would have to fend for themselves as best they could; I had no intention of turning back.

The world span as I crashed against the cold gravel floor hard, something clawing and tearing at my chest. I could feel the dull pressure threatening to puncture through my reinforced trench coat, my only line of defense against the unending assault of these familiars save for my own skill and reflexes.

Kanshou's pommel bashed against the thing's head again and again, eliciting a sickly wet sound as black ichor began to flow freely. It howled in pain and anger, my assaults doing nothing other than making it more determined to break through my shell and rip out my innards. I grunted as the air in my lungs was forcibly exhaled, the things pounding against my chest with a demented fervor. More of them began crawling towards me at the edges of my vision. I had to get this thing off of me; I had to continue moving forward.

With a flick of my wrist, Kanshou span in my grip, its tip now pointed towards one of the familiar's many eye sockets.

"Get the fuck off of me, monster!" I yelled as I drove forward—only to be stopped.

My vision burned white from the pain as several tendrils tore their way through my arm, ripping through my armor as though it were not there and holding my arm in place. The creature's back shuddered as more and more barbed tendrils emerged, before impaling my legs and my shoulder blades, staking me to the ground. It let out an inky cry, one like a predator that had caught its prey, and lowered many more tendrils down towards my face.

I swear it was smiling at the results of its own handiwork.

I spat in its face.

"I'll be dead by the end of this, no doubt about it. But it'll be on my terms."

I screamed in a mixture of rage and pain as I drove Kanshou forward again, muscle tearing along the barbed surfaces of the tendrils as I powered through on sheer force of will. I savored the look of shock on its face as Kanshou's black edge puncture its skull, its expression preserved even as its body began to disintegrate.

There was no time for idling. The familiars around me were already surging forward to avenge their fallen comrade, their bodies wracked in spasms as limbs, claws, and tendrils elongated and warped themselves into weapons made to bypass my trench coat.

My body ached with pain as I sat up, blood leaking fresh from my wounds. There were no paths through, no neat escape available to me. This was a tidal wave made to wipe me out, plain and simple.

The corner of my mouth drew out into a smile.

"I won't give you the satisfaction."

Stone splintered as I drove Kanshou into the ground. Prana flooded my circuits as I flooded them into Kanshou as quickly as I could. My companion grew to almost five times its size to accommodate the massive influx even as it began to splinter and break apart, threatening to self-destruct. The ruptures in its surface burned with prana, the Chinese broadsword more resembling an angel's wing than weapon.

The ground rumbled as the swarm converged on me from every direction, lunging, and jumping.

In one swift motion I removed my trench coat and wrapped it around as much as myself as I could.

And then with as much force as I could muster I kicked the broken phantasm.


	71. Shirou XII

Shirou XII

A howling wail signaled that I had struck home, sending another of Caster's familiars cascading downwards in a shower of ash and black ichor. While Rin was able to use the Jewel Sword to wipe away entire swathes of their numbers in an instant, I had to rely on precision and skill.

My body twisted and turned in a fatal dance as I assaulted and was assaulted in turn. My weapons were an extension of my will, as much a part of me as my beating heart and my burning lungs, made to help me strike down my enemies no matter the cost. As the battle raged on it had begun to feel more and like my body was moving on its own, reacting to piercing blows from the twisting hellscape of monsters even before I had consciously registered them. For all their dizzying movements and bizarre cacophony of constantly changing limbs, I was beginning to establish a sort of rhythm. Saber's voice rang true in the back of my skull. He had told me that I would begin to develop a sixth sense, of sorts, but one begotten by the influence of the dream cycle. I had been absorbing Saber's lifetime of experience this whole time, so it only stood to reason that I would inherit his accumulated combat experience as well. Eye of the Mind (False) he had called it, supernatural instincts bootlegged from my future self.

But Saber was partially wrong.

I had seen the lives of every Servant in this war, all the possible iterations of myself. Eye of the Mind (False)—my Eye of the Mind (False)—was not just a skill borne from Saber's experiences, no, it was a skill borne from all of their experiences. I could feel it, could feel that I was shifting in and out of stances that weren't just unique to Saber's, each stance similar but slightly different.

I had been so busy trying to cope with the mind bending assault of a half a dozen possible versions of Emiya Shirou, that I had been blinded to the simplest of truths: though they were all Emiya Shirou, none of them were me.

This meant that I was beholden to no one path. My path was mine and mine alone to forge and walk along.

My eyes became partially blinded as another flash of prana erupted from Rin's Jewel Sword, the raw magical energy from the blast disintegrating the familiars and sterilizing everything that it came in contact with.

"There's no end to these things!" Rin said.

"Rin, we don't have to kill them all, we just have to make our way towards the Grail!" I said.

Rin growled in frustration.

"I'm trying, but these things just fill in the gaps too quickly! We're not like Rider; we can't just maneuver through them. We'd be torn to shreds!"

I grunted as I used Kanshou and Bakuya to push off from another Shadow that had charged me.

"We're just going to have to make do!"

I was a whirlwind of stinging metal as the familiars bum rushed me. Rin was right; no matter how many familiars we killed several more would almost instantaneously take their place. It was like trying to fight the tide; no matter what you did, eventually it would come in to drown you.

My back dug into Rin's as I drew a ragged breath.

"Well, if you have a plan, then I'm all ears, Shirou," she said.

"I was sort of hoping the same from you, actually," I said.

In spite of the impending sense of doom, Rin laughed. A beautiful sound that stood in stark contrast to the horde of misshapen monsters that surrounded us here in some deep hole in the Earth.

"So, the situation's that bad, huh?" she said.

My circuits thrummed with prana as the tide began to fall in around us again.

"If I had a plan, then I would have told you already, Rin."

"Heh, getting chippy with me now, are you? I'm going to have to put you in your place when this is all over, Emiya-kun."

My skin tingled as Rin began to draw more prana through the Jewelled Sword.

"I look forward to it."

The cavern floor rolled with a massive vibration as I was near deafened by the sound of an explosion further in. I stumbled forward as Rin fell backwards with a yelp. That brief moment of interruption was all the Shadows would need. In a moment I found myself fighting away from Rin as the Shadows herded us in opposite directions.

I could barely hear Rin cry out for me between her blasts of pure prana, carving through Caster's familiars to buy herself room to maneuver.

The dirt and gravel was stained black with more ichor as I tried in defiance to carve my way back to Rin, but just as before, I simply couldn't kill them fast enough to take advantage of any momentary gaps in their lines.

Rin had no way to get to me in a direct fashion. The Jewel Sword was an indiscriminate killer that merely directed the flow of prana towards a particular direction. If she tried to cut open a path back to me, I would no doubt be caught up in the blast. She would have to gradually curve her way back to me if we entertained any hope of linking back up. Several noble phantasms that I'd seen during the course of the war flashed through my mind immediately as I cycled through a catalogue of weapons, searching and hoping for one that could help me get out of this alive. Admittedly, I had many, but in my inexperience state I couldn't hope to trace them before the familiars were already on me. Without Rin at my back they surrounded me in every direction. Even with heightened battlefield awareness, I couldn't hope to fight all of them at once.

The whites of my knuckles flared around Kanshou and Bakuya as my nerves ran hot. It didn't take a lifetime of combat experience to realize that, at this moment, if they'd all rushed me at once I'd stand no chance. I absolutely did not want to fight them in anything other than a piecemeal fashion, but they may just force the issue.

So, why didn't they?

The familiars back away from me in a neat circle.

What the hell are they doing? If their aim was to confuse me, they've definitely accomplished that.

"Emiya Shirou," a low, male voice said.

I shot around.

I knew that voice. How could I not? It was a voice that I'd grown very familiar with during the past few weeks, a voice that dripped with half-truths and contempt.

Stepping through the parting throng of familiars was Kotomine Kirei.


	72. Rider XII

Rider XII

The sound of grating steel rang in my ears as tiny swords tore through my body. I could feel them in my bones. Little swords bursting from my skin, weaving together as they replaced the charred flesh with cold hard steel. It was beautiful in a way. Little swords bursting from my skin, connecting with one another to form crisscrossing patches of armor. I wanted to lie there and watch as the rhythmic motions of half inched blades slid across my skin.

But I hadn't the time to admire the work.

I wiped the bloody tears from my eyes and took a moment to compose myself. Prana ruptured through my circuits as they rushed through like a tsunami. They were overloaded. Unable to handle the damage I have accumulated to both my body and soul.

Too much.

A hundred lifetimes of agony.

But the job was not done.

I laid on my back in a pool of cold blood at the epicenter of the blast. The ceiling overhead was painted black with the bursting ashes of dead shadows. And in the far off distance I could make out a blurry purplish creature at the base of the Grail, his contrasting white sneer in full view.

It was time to end this.

I pushed away the pain, and turned my mind to steel... one final time.

I rolled onto my stomach, and grimaced as the unsecure blades stabbed at my internal organs. My grimy hands clutched as the cavern floor. Wet dirt mixed with blood caked between my fingers.

With a heave I forced myself onto my knees.

"AH" I cried as the fuzed swords in the joints snapped in half.

My gasping grew shallow, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. Blood and sweat dripped onto the cavern floor. It was too much. The feeling was gone. My legs were numb. They moved when I commanded, but they felt nothing.

I took another breath, and I looked over at my right shoulder. The stump was gone. Instead a jagged pile of blades jutted out from where my arm used to be. Stained the color of rusted steel.

For a moment failure became an option. I just had to drop. Roll over and die. Give up. And it would be all over.

But the image of Sakura's corpse flashed in the forefront of my mind. A smile on her lips. Peaceful. Forgiving.

Never again.

I grit my teeth and dug my heels into the ground. With single minded focus, I pushed. I pushed my legs as hard as I could. I pushed as if every moment in my life had been in preparation for this action. My quadriceps snapped as they extended, and more swords ripped out from my flesh as I lifted off the ground. My kneecaps locked when I reached the top.

A short lived victory. In a second the joint "healed" over, unable to bend or move in place.

Worse, the shadows had already filled the gap while I busied myself. And yet they did not obstruct me. Instead they left a straight path directly to Caster. He had parted the Red Sea so to speak. He wanted me to confront him.

Undaunted, I staggered forward. The shadows filled in the gaps behind me as I dragged my feet through the dirt. They flowed in unison, blocking my exit, but remained happy to let me pass when I inevitably stumbled too close. One even helped me up when I tripped into it.

I felt insulted.

Caster was fucking with me now.

"You are a disappointment, Rider," his voice echoed in my head. An undead wail racing through my mind, bouncing around in the spaces between my thick skull.

I ignored him and took one step forward, the bottom of my left foot held awkwardly flat as I dragged my other leg up. The process repeated itself as Caster came closer and closer into view.

Left foot forward, right foot follows.

Left foot forward, right foot follows.

Again, and again. One goal, one purpose.

A single minded drive to kill Caster.

No. I shook the thought. That was wrong. That was not my mission. My mission was to save her. Save Sakura.

To finally right a wrong I've put off for too long.

"You are weak." Caster shook his ghastly head, his movements unnatural and alien. More like the pages of a flipbook than that of a human being.

I refused to give him the response he wanted.

Instead I retread the same steps, one at a time as I approached.

Soon I was ten feet away. The ominous tower of the Grail hung overcast, like a spectator in this game. It leaned forward, almost canted towards me, as if it were watching my every step.

Then I was five feet away. The shadows broached a larger expanse, spreading out to give me more breathing room. An arena of sorts, wide and circular. They stood on the edges like curious onlookers, hungry for entertainment.

And then I stood before him.

Gone was the golden shine of his eyes, the passionate fires of a single minded fool. A black shadow had filled in the sockets of his skull, leaving only a black void, from where flowed a river of ashened tears. I searched into those caverns, plunging myself into the abyss. I searched in vain for the Emiya that resided within, hoping for the tiny spark forged within each of us.

"You see nothing," Caster whispered.

He paused for a moment, the curl of his shadowy sneer shrunk as he tilted his head in his unnatural manner. "As..." he began. "as do I."

I willed Kanshou into my remaining hand, clutching the hilt with a tight grip. My prana reserves were pitifully low, and I could ill afford to cast any more weapons. One more, maybe two tops.

I took a clumsy swipe at Caster, throwing my arm in a downward motion.

Caster slid to the right in one smooth motion, unimpressed and bored with my efforts. "You have lost your edge," his voice echoed, "you have lost that single minded drive!"

I staggered forward and took another swing, this time at an angle. The muscles in my body obeyed me, but only did so have heartedly. They followed, but merely went through the motions.

Caster shifted away from the blade again.

Another swing, another miss.

I lost my footing and felt the dirt give way from underneath my toes. The gravel slid forward as it threatened to send me tumbling down. My other leg kicked back, gripping the ground as best I could. If I fell it would be over. The rocking motion slowed before stopping completely.

"It was beautiful, the way you chased after your ideals," Caster continued, "and you threw it all away."  
The shadowy figure of Caster hovered over me, threatening to engulf me within it. The pale void of his eyes flashed white as the color drained from the rest of his face. "Don't you understand? You gave up Kiritsugu's dreams for your own selfish reasons!"

I swung Kanshou horizontally across the plane, hoping to bisect Caster. Instead of the kiss of flesh, I felt the gentle resistance of gelatin as it passed through him completely. The edge of the blade flew through to the other side without a drop of blood.

The shadows around Caster formed a half circle around, closing the gap with increasing velocity. It began to overhead. Soon I would be consumed by it.

I willed myself calm, working to slow the quickening of my pulse. The rapid thumping in my chest slowed and the feeling coarse sandpaper running through my veins began to ebb. With a deep breath I formed the words at the tips of my tongue.

Caster's shadow stopped. It slowly opened the circle and receded back into himself. The darkness disappeared as the dark tan color of skin returned to the forefront. I could see his skin again, and make out the features of his face. The only shadows that remained were the sunken pits of his eyes.

He stood there, head cocked, with that grin on his face, readying himself.

I hung my head, and began muttering the words to myself.

" _I am the bone of my sword."_

A newfound energy pulsed through me.

" _I have created over a thousand blades."_

It welled at the bottom of my heart, a strange thing. It wasn't prana, nor anything really magical. Unknown to defeat, unknown to despair. The next words came to my mind, but something else came out instead.

" _I have embraced defeat, and shall not despair. I have withstood many pains to create weapons."_

The words changed as they left my lips, no longer the default options I have been so used to chanting. Instead I spoke naturally, letting my emotions flow as they should.

" _Free the heart, free the mind."_

I understood now. The feeling, the newfound energy. They were my emotions. Neglected for so long I had forgotten what they felt like. Was this what it's like to be a man? To have convictions of honor?

A light chuckle escaped from my mouth as I felt a slight tug on the edges of my lips. When was the last time I smiled? It felt strange, I did not fight it, staying relaxed as the final words of the incantation came forth.

"And with open arms I embrace, Unlimited Blade Works!"

A pale white glow erupted from beneath my feet as we returned to my inner world. The plane of sterile glass and the quiet churning of oiled clockwork underneath. And the rows upon rows of swords.

But this was different.

This was not my world.

The metal churning of rusted gears grew louder as it entered into the forefront. Dark clouds formed overhead as a reddish tint took hold over the horizon. It permeated through the clear glass and washed it with warmth and color.

I felt the cold ebb away from me, and the empty void that I once felt grew smaller and smaller as the ground grew green and the flowers blossomed.

Gone was the pale off-white sky, the maddening hum of turning gears. What was once an empty lifeless world was now vibrant and true. It was dirty and ugly at times, full of issues and insecurities. But it was honest.

It was my world.

Caster looked around appraisingly with unnatural, jerky movements. The dark pits of his eyes evaluated my inner sanctum, judging the man I had become. Judge all you want, Caster; you're in my world.

I took a deep breath and reached out with my mind, my soul. In an instant hundreds of master-crafted blades removed themselves from their neat rows and gained flight, powered by nothing but my own will. The gears thrummed with life, turning from a mad symphony of churning metal into a single repeated beat.

Thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump.

The blacksmith had returned to his sanctum anew and his forge was ready to provide him the weapons he needed to wage war.

The floating blades, beholden to the rules of my inner world, tilted as by an unseen force, the points of their blades now directed at Caster.

This will be your end, Caster.

The blades loosed and flew forward in a dazzling display of steel and iron—and then vanished in proximity to Caster.

A hollow chuckle, then a rasping laugh.

"Interesting, Rider. A very interesting display indeed. This is your reality marble, yes?"

Caster sneered at me even as I motioned to pull more weapons from the glass landscape.

"You have shown me your world; now, let me show you mine."

Tendrils of inky black clawed their way from beneath Caster's shadow, clawing into the glass of Unlimited Blade Works and leaving behind a conflagration of fire.

I could feel it, a foreboding pressure that pressed on me.

The fire ate away at Unlimited Blade Works even as I loosed more blades at Caster. A futile effort, I soon found, as the air itself wavered and bled with darkness. The noble phantasm found themselves lost in the dark, never even approaching Caster.

Deep oozing wounds ripped their way around Caster, ushered in by the flailing tendrils on the ground. Unlimited Blade Works was being overwritten, replaced by some terrible thing.

I could only stand and watch as the darkness consumed more and more of my inner world. I clutched at my head as the dull heartbeat of machinery was replaced by billions of wails and screams that seemed to filter in first from the tears in the air, before overtaking me.

KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME.

The souls of a lost world cried in in despair and suffering, seeking for salvation, but finding only the dark. I collapsed to my knees, patchwork swords scratching at fire-licked, blackened glass.

This was Caster's world?

"It is beautiful, is it not? There is a certain tranquility to it, a cacophony of lost souls singing together in a chorus."

The last vestiges of Unlimited Blade Works faded away, consumed by the darkness. Now there was only Caster, myself, and the darkness. Burning cinders marked the extreme edges of the world, so faint in their orange glow in the distance.

And yet for all the darkness, I could see it.

A tower like the Grail, but different.

It was impossibly tall, an ephemeral and shadowy tower that crushed you underneath its visage.

DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE.

The trapped souls swirled and stormed in anger. They knew I was here with them now, a living soul. Faint faces contorted and charged at me, pushing me into the ground. There was nothing there, physically, but the weight was immense. The weight of a human soul is always burdened with sin and regret.

HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE.

JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US.

The feelings of my extremities had numbed as more and more souls clung to me, threatening to collapse my ribcage. I made to scream, but could hear nothing for it was but one of many.

"Enjoying yourself, Rider? This mad chorus is the sounds of a world. I hear it, every day and every moment. You cry out for salvation, but you seek not true repentance. Mankind only wishes to push their burdens on others."

The souls pulled at me, screaming into my ears and rupturing my eardrums. I could feel them twist my arms and legs and head every which way.

This was the inner world of Caster? What could have possibly happened to have warped him so?

"This is no more Emiya Shirou's world as it is yours, Rider. This is my world."

I felt my body being lifted in the air and brought towards Caster, my limbs dangling uselessly as I could still feel the tugs of the vengeful souls.

"You see, I seek to bring peace to this world and others. I seek to honor Kiritsugu's dream as no Emiya Shirou could hope to. A world of peace and quiet. The Emiya Shirou of my world wished for such a thing and I have deigned his wish worthy of my attention. Both Emiya Shirou and Emiya Kiritsugu wished for a world free of pain and suffering, but that is an impossible wish. There will always be pain and suffering so long as sinners exist."

No, this is all wrong. None of us ever wished for anything like this.

The thing wearing Caster's skin smiled as inky black tears fell from dark pits.

"That's why the only way to free the world—no, all the worlds—of sin is to remove all the sinners."

The world bent back in on itself, the dark replaced by the immense cavern that housed the Grail. Caster had not only consumed my reality marble and subsumed it into his own, but he had dismissed it without even a passing effort.

I fell onto my knees in a crumpled heap at the edge of Caster's boots. Blood gushed from my mouth as I tried to steady myself. Fear coursed through my body. I grit my teeth and bit through my tongue, fighting to cease the endless shaking. But it was futile.

Caster stared down at me with his hollowed eyes, the windows into the shadowy realm that I had just been ejected from. I could see it now, in the darkness, the lamenting souls crying for salvation. It repeated itself over and over, an endless looping nightmare.

I felt very, very small beneath the towering bring before me.

"Stay there and watch like the broken man you are." Caster turned around in one fluid motion and marched towards the Grail. His imposing figure overshadowed by the pulsing purple tower in the background. The end was near.

I smashed my fist into the ground, lamenting my failures as I choked back tears. They blurred my vision into a red haze as the darkness descended upon me. A sense of familiarity washed over me. The shadows felt friendly and warm. As if this was the most natural experience in the world. I had met them before, in Caster's world. Their shapes changed from the dark blobs they were before, morphing into the forms of my old friends and acquaintances. It should not have felt so comforting to be smothered by them.

They lifted me onto my feet, holding me steady for a better view of Caster's back. One of the shadows broke rank and moved directly in front of me. Its blank shaped began to morph before my eyes.

First came the shape. Long strands of hair grew out from its head and down to its shoulders as area around its waist extended into a short waving dress. Next came the colors, shades of pink faded in the dress, giving them a vibrant flair of life, just as a crisp tone of purple filled out her hair. It finished with her eyes, its dull finish coming alive before settling above the crinkle of her rosy cheeks.

I turned away and closed my eyes, forcing myself to not look, unable to bear it any longer. Its arms around me in loving embrace. I leaned forward for support, unable to bear the weight of it any longer. ""I couldn't save you," I cried.

The shadow puppet hugged me tighter, and I feel the soft touch of its hair as it shook its head. It placed its lips an inch from my ear.

I shut my eyes further, trying to listen, trying to feel the faint breath on the side of my neck. But I felt nothing, for the shadow needed no air.

In a quiet voice, it spoke: "I'm sorry."

My grip around her tightened, fearing she would leave me if I let go. Drips of tears rolled down her face before splashing onto my shoulders. It was just like her to apologize for something that wasn't her fault, to bear the responsibilities for other's failures.

"If it weren't for me, Senpai wouldn't have to..."

I clasp my hand over her mouth. I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear her cry about it anymore. I gently pushed her away, and patted her on the head. As much as it held her shape, it wasn't her.

I was beaten, Caster had won, and there was no way I could stop him. But that never mattered. I am a broken hollow shell of a man, but I am one with a renewed purpose.

Sakura's motionless form hovered at the base of the Grail, it's ghastly vines wrapped around her as it drained her of prana. Pain ran beneath her face as she bore it silently. It was merely the continuation of a torment that never ceased.

I pushed my way through the shadows as I walked towards her.

I can't save the world.

I can't save her.

I can't even save myself.

But at the very least I could try. And if I failed, I would die on my feet fighting for someone I loved. Not some childish ideal or mythical concept. I would die for myself, for something I finally believed in with all my heart. And when I died, I would die right besides her.

I have found my hill of swords.

And I would have it no other way.


	73. Shirou XIII

Shirou XIII

Kotomine Kirei, representative of the Church and overseer of the Fifth Holy Grail War, stood in contemplation as the familiars formed a widening circle around us. The Shadows that had fought against us with such wrathful abandon had merely let Kotomine waltz through them unmolested, even deferring space to him. A sizzling burned in the pit of my chest.

"How long have you been working with Caster," I said.

Kotomine closed his eyes and inhaled, his arms kept behind his back in consternation.

"I am under no delusions that I am working with the Servant Caster, boy," he said. "He tolerates my presence because of his own morbid curiosity."

Curiosity? What could he possibly be curious of at this point?

Kotomine flashed a wicked smile at me and raised his hand in a grandiose gesture.

"Curious of one man's quest for the truth of himself. With the birth of the creature inside of the Holy Grail, a being we call Angra Mainyu, I will have an answer to a question almost a decade in the making. Through the earthly birth of All the Evils of the World, I will have my answer."

I surprised myself as I registered the sound of my teeth gnashing against each other.

"You'd let a monster like that be born into the world, threaten the lives of so many people, for an answer?"

The priest gave a low chuckle.

"The child is sinless, Emiya Shirou. True it may be borne of all the evils that man can conjure, but how can you be so quick to condemn it for something that it has yet to do?"

"It's vile, a monster of the purest sense of the word," I looked up at the beast hidden behind the translucent surface of the Grail, "I will stop you."

"As a priest of the faith I will have no choice but to defend that child. My answer aside, I cannot allow you to take the life of an innocent before it has a chance to know-" the priest stopped as if struck by a sudden realization.

"I see. You were never interested in _my_ answer, were you, Caster."

His gaze tightened on me and he began to laugh as though he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Regardless, to protect my own wish, I must strike you down here. Neither one of us will budge on our principles, so there is no more point in words."

The priest reached into his vestment and pulled out three burgundy, leather wrapped objects clasped between his fingers. I could feel the press of thaumaturgy as he passed prana through the objects causing rapier-like blades to sprout from what I now recognized as hilts. These must be those weapons Saber told me about, the Black Keys.

I shifted my weight in response, assuming a ready stance with my trusted swords in hand. The far off detonations of prana as Rin desperately fought her way back to me, the dull thrums of life as the fetal monster shifted in its womb, all of it became muted. Here, right now, there was only Kotomine Kirei and myself. That was all that mattered. Kill or be killed.

A broken priest and a broken teenager.

One who feels nothing and strives for the suffering of others.

The other who feels nothing but strives for the smiles of others.

Two sides of the same warped coin.

There are many who would call this false priest a devil, a deceiver, a villain.

And yet, why do I feel a sort of kinship?

The crackling of shifting gravel precipitated the beginning of the fight. Before I had even realized it Kotomine was on me, slashing horizontally for my neck with his swords.

Fast! Almost as fast as a Servant!

The edges of the blades licked across the surface of my neck as I arched backwards in desperation to avoid the blow.

And then I was accelerating away from him. Stones dug into my back as I hit the ground hard. Kanshou and Bakuya clattered away as I tried to reorient myself.

I could see Kotomine in the distance, his leg raised in the air like a martial arts master.

Had he kicked me? Kicked me with enough force to blow me away? It was almost unfathomable to me, but I'd already learned that Kotomine was a survivor of the Fourth Grail War. Such ability was well within the means of someone who could immerse themselves in this sort of bloody affair and survive.

I clutched the side of my chest as I stood up and spat up some blood. It was a certainty that he'd been able to break some ribs with that kick.

This was a fight to the death. Kill or be killed.

I could not hold back.

Kotomine was already in motion, his vestment fluttering as he closed on me.

"I am the bone of my sword."

I spoke the opening line of Saber's aria, the key to his inner world. Prana flooded through my beaten chest, reinforcing and knitting the broken bones.

Stolen memories tugged at my body as the priest surged towards me.

I traced a new pair of Kanshou and Bakuya.

He was twenty feet away and closing fast.

"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."

I reinforced the muscle fibers in my arm as I lurched back. I could feel them bursting, barely held together with prana as my arm exploded forwards. Kanshou flew from my hand, a circular saw buzzing through the air towards the priest.

Kotomine stopped in his tracks and dug his feet into the ground, anchoring himself as he used his swords to deflect Kanshou over his shoulder with a CRACK.

This momentary distraction was all I needed. Gravel crunched underfoot as I stormed towards Kotomine with the initiative, another copy of Kanshou already manifesting itself in my free hand.

The priest stared me down without flinching and with no signs of emotion. He simply waited, allowing me the first move.

"I have created over a thousand blades. Unaware of loss, nor aware of gain."

I once again flooded my body with prana, reinforcing as much of it as I could to push myself past normal human limits. I knew it was a dangerous risk, I could very well push myself too far and incapacitate myself, but I had to give everything I had for this fight. Even with Eye of the Mind (False) it would be foolish to underestimate Kotomine Kirei.

I roared as Kanshou and Bakuya connected against his Black Keys, throwing up flickers of prana as two magically constructed swords collided.

The resistance I met was like trying to cut down a brick wall. I should not forget, up until now I've only ever fought against Caster's familiars. Fighting against Servants would have been certain suicide.

This priest was the first human opponent I'd faced thus far.

I grit my teeth even as Kotomine stood there impassively. I was a nuisance, an obstacle to be cut down. Whatever twisted machinations he may have had for me had been cast aside in favor of his own goals.

A sudden movement of Kotomine's free hand clued me into his next action. Before he could move I was already responding. In a move foreign to my own repertoire I forced prana into my right leg and kick out at one of his knees. I felt as though this was a maneuver I'd done hundreds of times before, but it was alien to me.

He shuddered as he jumped back. Surprisingly, I had not seemed to do any damage, at least on the surface. There was no change on his face, but I knew that he was surprised. An atypical move, not at all the graceful swordsmanship you would expect from someone wielding noble phantasm blades.

Kanshou and Bakuya whirled through the air as I threw them at him, causing him to strike Bakuya out of the air and into the ground as it splintered apart and moving to dodge the remaining Kanshou, allowing it to strike the gravel behind him.

"I have withstood pain to create weapons, waiting for one's arrival."

I was starting to understand what Saber had been trying to tell me. I was myself; these memories were the memories of long dead ghosts. There was no reason to become consumed by them, but in the same respect there was no reason not to embrace what they taught me.

A carbon fiber composite bow appeared in my hands, the same one I'd seen Saber use so many nights before. A vision of that spiraling sword that he'd traced as an arrow appeared in my mind.

No. Too inexperienced. Would take too long to trace.

I willed an ironwrought arrow into existence in its stead

Nock and loose.

The arrow screamed through the air, an impossible arrow that by all rights should not fly, but was forced forwards by the unnatural archer that had loosed it.

With a wet THUT it embedded itself into Kotomine's shoulder.

Unfettered he barreled towards me again.

Trace. Nock. Loose.

Trace. Nock. Loose.

Trace. Nock. Loose.

Ironwrought arrows were struck out of the air before they could hit Kotomine, clattering against the gravel. Having seen my trick, he was not going to be caught off guard again.

No.

No tricks here. These arrows will hit. They just need to move faster, release faster, and hit harder.

I thought back to my days in the Archer Club. I am the arrow. I will hit my mark.

Trace. Nock. Loose.

Another hit, this time in his left arm.

Trace. Nock. Loose.

A stumble as an arrow hit him in the thigh.

Another hit and another.

With every arrow that found its mark the priest's reactions slowed down. Still he did not falter. Like a machine dedicated to the kill he loomed towards me, defending against what arrows he could.

The time for the killing blow was now. I discarded the composite bow and traced Bakuya, shooting forwards towards the priest before he could bring his guard back up.

I was rewarded with the wet sound of steel on flesh as Bakuya tore through his chest and through his heart, a certain kill.

A scraping sound pulled me back to reality. The Black Keys were digging into my side, tearing at my shirt and skin, but not penetrating.

"What!?" The priest choked out.

How was he still alive? Bakuya should have destroyed his heart, there was no way he should be able to talk, let alone counter-attack.

Kotomine quickly discarded the Black Keys and grabbed my head with both his hands. The world around me rushed away as I was lifted into the air with an amazing pressure along my skull.

I let out a hoarse cry as Kotomine tried to collapse my skull. There was a momentary release of pressure to one side of my head before I felt my face bathed in fire repeatedly.

My vision began to darken as thin tendrils of black crept in along the edges among the flashes of white as my face was impacted.

Would I die here? Would I die here having accomplished nothing?

I tumbled head over heels as I was unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

"Even with that body of yours I should be able to pierce through your eyes to the brain."

Kotomine's shoes clacked against the ground as he lumbered towards me, the faint ozone-like smell of prana alerting me to his possession of another Black Key.

My vision swayed to and fro as he approached. Come on Shirou, you've got to get your wits about you again! With every beat of my heart my eyes overloaded, overstimulation of the optic nerves blinding me again and again.

Then I felt it, a stinging sensation on the back of my hand followed by a steady trickle of prana. I glanced at it in between the iron hot flashes of white.

My command seals were gone.

Saber had fallen.

The Saber that had loyally stayed behind to buy us time, the one that had been nothing but the biggest exemplar of everything that I aspired to be, was now gone from this world.

I choked out a whimper of loss.

"Rejoice boy, your wish had been granted, if only for an ephemeral moment."

No. I will not die here. I will not allow Saber to have died for nothing. I will beat this warped priest, I will save Rin, I will save Sakura, and I will end this Grail War. Even if I take my last gasp of breath by the end of all of this I swear that it all ends here.

I will be a Hero of Justice.

"I have no regrets. This is the only path!"

I exploded out towards Kotomine, lowering my shoulders as my feet thundered across the gap of space.

I could only hear my own breathing now. Nothing else mattered. There was only Emiya Shirou and his enemy.

Kotomine thrust the Black Key forward, aiming for my left eye. My left hand shot up as I exploded up in the priest's sternum, hot flames licked across my nerves as the Black Key tore through my palm until finally my hand closed around Kotomine's.

"My whole life was unlimited blade works!"

The searing pain disappeared as every inch of my hand became awash with prana. I could hear the creak and crack of snapping bones as my reinforced fist crushed the priest's, drawing a pained grunt.

Again my vision was overwhelmed with stars as I felt repeated blows to my skull.

Blind yourself to the pain.

CRACK.

My head rammed into his lower jaw.

CRACK.

CRACK.

His struggling became more pronounced and my own vision was quickly being subsumed into darkness—but I will not falter.

He grabbed my right arm and twisted, ripping and stretching tendons and locking me to the ground with a great pressure.

I roared like a mad beast as my shoulder was on the brink of being torn free from its socket.

A gasp of surprise and Kotomine's collapsed to a knee.

A chance!

My arms still occupied I did the only thing I could.

CRACK.

My forehead smashed into his face.

CRUNCH.

Blood streamed down the front of my face.

CRRK.

I could feel bits of skull and blood on my face.

THUT.

The pressure on my right arm disappeared and his right hand quickly dislodged itself as I relaxed the flow of prana on my own left hand.

Kotomine crumpled to the ground in a heap. His face was pulverized, a broken mess that no one would be able to identify as the priest. His body lay motionless, with no signs of life at all. Blood began to pool around the corpse as it flowed from the dozen ironwrought arrows that littered his arms and legs and the twins blades Kanshou and Bakuya that protruded from his chest and shoulder. Sometime during the fight the first traced copy of Bakuya that Kotomine had deflected had returned seeking its counterpart. I had been saved by a fluke, an attribute that tickled at the edges of my own skill repertoire, but of which I did not consciously use.

Kotomine Kirei was dead at my hands.

I fell to my haunches as the weariness of the battle finally caught up with me. My arms and legs were numb. Everything was numb. Had I overdone it with the reinforcing? No, if I hadn't pushed myself to my absolute limit, Kotomine would surely have overwhelmed me.

The throng of Shadows cackled and squirmed, as if mocking Kotomine's death.

That's right. This fight is far from over. Kotomine Kirei was dead, but I was still surrounded by Caster's army of familiars. Rin and Illya were still fighting desperately to rejoin my side, who knew what their conditions were.

And we still had to rescue Sakura.

Who knew if Rider was still alive; for all we knew, the job of saving Sakura from Caster now fell to Rin and me.

This job was far from over.

I gingerly forced myself to my feet. Not good, I can barely keep myself from falling over. I would have no chance at all the moment the Shadows attacked. I knew, in that instant that they would overwhelm me and tear me apart.

But even still… even still I would not give up. I would fight and fight and fight until the last drop of blood left my body. Until this being known as Emiya Shirou no longer drew breath, I would fight to save others. Following in Saber's example I would accomplish my mission. I owed my fallen Servant that much and more.

I pulled the Black Key embedded in the palm of my left hand out with a sickening slurp, biting the insides of my cheek to keep myself from screaming out.

"Trace… on."

My voice sounded labored even to my own ears.

Kanshou and Bakuya rejoined me at my sides.

I eyed the Shadows as they morphed and shifted into serrated, exaggerated shapes.

With a chuckle I straightened my back and glared at them.

"Just see if you can bring me down."

As though accepting my provocation the army surged forward.

I gripped the two Chinese broadswords firmly and steeled myself for battle.

And then there was a howl that seemed to permeate the entire cavern.


	74. Caster VII

Caster VII

It was a strange feeling. The quiet emptiness in the recesses of my mind. Gone was the nagging voice, the senseless echo of hate and despair that would hijack my body and soul. But, it made sense. I was no longer in control.

Instead _it_ stood still as Rider came stumbling forward, more preoccupied with the current fight than any previous occupants. Despite the magnificent display of Rider's Reality Marble, it was not enough for the Grail.

 _It_ dispelled it in a whim. And instead forced the image of untold horrors upon _its_ victim. I could see the reflection of it in Rider's eyes. The empty wasteland staring back at me like the television on repeat.

I have never wanted to die more than at that moment. I was on track to bring about the same destruction to this realm as my own. It was a horror, to witness your mistakes repeating itself, powerless to interfere.

 _It_ turned back towards the Grail, basking in its purplish glow. It fed off the energy, eager, ready for the birth of Angra Mainyu into this world. And for a brief moment, I felt it.

The feeling of hate and anger ebbed. The time grew near and _it_ believed victory was at hand. _It_ dropped its guard.

The fluttering flash of a black trench coat flew by. Rider had not given up. He refused to give up.

 _It_ still failed to understand the core principle of Emiya Shirou. We are already broken hollowed men. _It_ could do nothing to break us any further than we already are.

I conjured the image of a gap in my mind, a hole in the wall. A tiny space in between two shadowy recesses sat in the far corner. I forced myself into it.

A burst of energy rushed through me. I screamed as the joy of pain tore through my body. My jaw dropped and a blood curling scream escaped from the bit of my gut as the exhilaration of feeling came back to me.

The shadows around my body shrunk as I wrested control of my own body away from it. The pain was searing, crushing the fabric of my soul as I fought to retain the function of my own person. It disagreed with me.

I clutched at my own face again, worming my fingers underneath the shadows of my eyes. A tiny layer of prana coated itself above the skin. I clenched my hand and pulled, pulling away the terrible mast that had infused itself to me.

But the shadow was a moving force, it surrendered the face, retreating momentarily to regroup. Control of my mouth returned, but at the expense of breathing. I gasped for a haggard breath.

Rider had secured Sakura, ripping her from the the clutches of the Grail. I realized that her forceful ejection had provided a negative feedback onto the Grail, just enough for me retake control.

"Stop!" I forced my hand away from my face. Rider would be wasting his time trying to kill me, it was an impossible task. It was all a trick. An attempt to goad. The more time spent on killing it the more powerful it became. Rider needed to focus on the true danger. I screamed as best I could. The empty vessel of my mind echoed with the hollow ringing of my own voice.

But he continued onwards, prepared to take advantage of the situation to strike me down. The single burning drive in his eyes to finish what he started stared back into me.

"I can't die!" I tried to warn him, "I've tried everything-"

The shadow forced it's way back into control. I slipped, and I felt weightless as the feeling of my own body disappeared from under me. I saw myself straightening back up, standing firm against Rider.

He stopped. A sense of hesitation showed in his body language.

"Finish this," it said. My voice was supplanted by that of the echo, the evil nature within me was now in control. It wanted Rider to attack and buy itself a few more precious seconds. Rider was at the end of his lifespan, every moment spent was in its favor.

I couldn't allow this.

I can't let it end this way.

What was it that I always wanted?

My foolish ideal doomed the world before. I wasn't going to let it happen again.

I threw myself against the wall in my mind. My muscles twist and turned, and the drywood cracked and shattered. And I continued to batter myself against it, forcing a doorway through.

"You can still..." I choked out between the cracks in my mind.

It flashed back at me, forcing me to stare back into the realm of my own doing. The ashen shadow of a child swung back and forth on a desolate playground. It flowed gently as the gentle breeze of cool air ebbed through the blackened landscape. Encapsulated in time, the last moments of a four year old, happy to play for all eternity.

No hatred. No war. No anger and brutality.

It was peace.

It was what I wanted.

But it was no dream. I never wanted this world. I never wanted a world without suffering. I only wanted to live in a world where everyone was happy. At least. That's what I tell myself.

The ominous glow of the Grail towered in the background. It watched from afar, always following no matter where I went, a permanent fixture of the land.

I have lived it. I have endured it. I deserved it, this is true.

However, I will not allow this to happen again. I didn't care about anything else anymore. I didn't care about the pain and death I caused. I didn't care about the hell and torment I've experienced. I didn't care about love or death, or humanity.

I was already damned. The putrid rotting nature of my own soul can never be redeemed. It was too late for me. But it was not too late for them.

The shadow retreated as I regained control of my body. The quiet peace of my mind was now replaced with the incessant nagging in the back of my head. My arm and legs moved freely, and while the compulsion was still there, I was in firm control.

"You can still save everyone here!" I screamed. There was something different in my voice. Gone was the hollow ringing, the sheer contempt and malevolence. It came out as a cry for help, in a voice of my own. Not from magic, but the simple sound of vibrating vocal cords.

Rider stooped. Our eyes met and something was established between us. I could read his mind, and he knew this was no trick. We understood each other, in a way. It was easy to understand. I'm not the priority here, destroy the Grail before it destroys the world.

Without a word Rider turned around and headed towards the darkened evil in the background. Perhaps I will be rid of it forever.

As Rider left, Shirou staggered onto the scene, his body torn and roughed up from his fight with Kotomine. He braced himself, ready for a fight.

But he paused as a flash of light cut throughout the cavern, followed by the sonic boom of an erupting tremor. The ground shook as the walls collapsed around us. Chunks of stalagmites broke off the ceiling and shattered against the ground.

Shirou rushed after Rin and Sakura, hoping to shield them from the crashing debris. This behavior was expected, but it is futile, they would never escape from here. Only Lancer would have been capable of it. And yet he tried anyways.

I couldn't let such an effort go unrewarded.

With the destruction of the Grail I had no source of prana, and the lifeline keeping me tethered to this realm was disconnected.

I closed my eyes and waved my arm in a half circle. I remembered waking up in the bedroom as the rays of sunlight trickled in. The soft warm touch of life, and the comforts of a bed.

And in the kitchen Taiga begged for seconds despite being on her eighth bowl. She wore her mischievous smile, waiting for me to notice that she had switched the labels on the sauces. The days were peaceful and quiet. A simple life. I wish you the very best Emiya Shirou. Never take it for granted.

Just because you feel undeserving doesn't mean you didn't earn it.

Live, Emiya Shirou.

When I opened my eyes I was back in the ashened wasteland I called home. I stood centered in the courtyard of the high school. Shadowy wisps flowed between classes in endless monotony, the last recordings of their lives, the same simple movements on repeat.

And in the background of the charred remnants stood the same image of the Grail. Overbearing and permanent, a reminder of my sins. It was angry at me. Upset that I had stalled its plans of rebirth.

I looked up at it as the shadows moved around me. This was the end of the line for me.

And yet...

I couldn't help but smile.


	75. Rider XIII

Rider XIII

A suffocating feeling pressed against my heart as I ignored the cries of my body and pushed it into overdrive. More and more swords pierced through every fiber of me as I tore past the shuffling mass of shadows towards the base of the Grail. Even Caster paused for a moment when I ran past him.

Sakura hung five meters off the ground, her crucified figure eclipsed by the monstrous tower behind her. The pitch black mud tendrils of all the evil's of the world flowed out from behind her and onto the cavern floor. I drove my heels into the ground and moved as fast as I could. An internal clock ran within in me, the scant remainders of my lifespan. Prana flowed through me in sufficient quantities to heal my wounds, but that was the problem.

The more I healed, the quicker it killed me.

Worse, the shadows began to give chase as I got close. Caster had realized my plan.

No matter. I pushed forward until I stood directly beneath Sakura. She hung with her head low and downcast, as if she had given up on everything. For a moment I wondered if she even wanted me to save her. I trickled prana through to my hand, constructing rule breaker in slow methodical steps.

An electric shock flashed through my body as the nerves frayed off the bone, yet I felt no pain. I grit my teeth as I drew the image of rule breaker into my mind, giving the image form and materializing it in the palm of my hand.

The shadows converged around me, having regained their footing and caught up to me. They swarmed around, pushing and flowing like a mosh. They closed the distance, moving within arms reach.

I pushed off the ground and away from the shadows. Sakura's pale purplish eyes fluttered open as I drew near her. For a brief moment she lifted her head, joyous, before lowering it back to her chest. I was just a dream to her. No one was coming to save her.

But you're wrong.

I pushed the tip of Rule Breaker into her heart. The brief moments of shock graced her lips before curling into a tearful smile. In a thunderous clash the putrid Grail mud evaporated into a stream of raw prana. I wrapped my arm around Sakura as we flew through the air, the sweet smell of lilacs drifted upwards as she tightened her grip. Her soft skinny hands wormed their way through the holes in the back of my trench coat, and tugged ever so softly at my undershirt.

"Senpai," she cried. The warmth of fresh tears soaked into my chest.

I ran my fingers through the strands of her long purple hair, and rested the palm of my hand on the back of her head as we gently descended towards the cavern floor. I twisted my body around, pointing Sakura away from the ground, bracing for the impact. The shadows below twisted and convulsed, a deathly howl escaped from their mouths as they lurched towards the air.

A rush of blood erupted from my chest as I slammed into the ground, the shattered pieces of broken steel stabbing deeper and deeper into me. I looked down and Sakura, covered in my own blood, and scared for a moment that I had hurt her. But she stirred gently, and pushed herself up, her radiant smile clearing away the haze in my vision.

"AHHHHHH!" the shriek of a dying beast vibrated through the steel in my bones. I turned to see Caster standing before, the dark patches of shadows of his body ebbing and flowing with irregularity. He screamed and pulsed, clutching at his face with his one good hand.

I pushed Sakura away from me, forcing myself away from her. The feeling of pain was gone as I got up, all the nerves in my body frayed off the bone. Instead, I trudged over to Caster's screaming form with antipathy.

"Stop!" he screamed, his hand outstretched, almost begging. But his voice was different. No echo, no maleficent glower, just the normal sound produced by vibrating vocal cords.

But I still moved in for the kill, this was my one opportunity. I didn't care how, perhaps rule breaking Sakura caused a negative feedback, all the matters was finishing this.

"I can't die," Caster cried, tears of ashened mud moured from every orifice in his body. "I've tried everything...ARRRG" he screamed, the dark shadows returned to engulf him.

"You have surprised me, Rider," the echo returned. A different voice took over as Caster stood up straight, no longer convulsing against himself. "Finish this."

Something told me to stop. What was it? A brief flash in the back of Caster's eyes, a sense of recognition and understand ebbed to the forefront. The scant traces of Emiya Shirou trapped within the darkened bits of hell.

I felt very small, shrinking once more into the wide expanse of the world. The Grail lorded over me. But there was a resoluteness in Caster's voice. Something was different, and my heart told me listen. It was the first thing it had said in a long long time.

He tells me he can't die, and yet the persona before me demanded I kill it. It was in this brief moment of clarity I understood Caster, we were all blighted fools. I turned around and walked towards the Grail, just as the sounds of Caster's struggles returned.

"You can still..." he gargled between the cursing of his other voice, "you can still save everyone here."

Despite our different paths and histories, the very essence of Emiya Shirou remained the same. In spite of everything, Caster still wished for a world where everyone was happy, and easily put the lives of others over his own. For some reason, I knew that destroying the Grail would not end his suffering, but I also knew that it was what he wanted. What we both wanted.

I took careful steps towards the Grail, with slow and steady breaths to calm myself. The scant remainder of my lifespan was coming to a close.

Sakura stood before me with her hands clutched to her chest, her trademark resigned smile on her face. She knew exactly what I was doing and was debating on whether or not to stop me. How cruel to leave so soon.

I ran the palm of my hand down her soft smooth cheeks, staring deeply into her pale reddish eyes. She responded in kind, brushing her shaking hands across my ugly face.

"I'm sorry, Sakura."

"It's okay," she whispered, "I'm happy."

I wiped the tears from her eyes and held my hand there for a few more seconds before pulling away. It was the hardest thing I ever did. "I'll see you soon," I said, before stepping away.

I walked towards the ominous purple tower in the distance. All the hatred, all the anger, all the evils of the world radiated from this malicious epicenter. It was the central core of everything I have fought against, that I have fought to destroy.

The feeling of consciousness began to fade as I neared, the shuffling of my feet automatic as I moved forward without any pain or feeling. I feel that I am running on autopilot. Everything flowed, the feeling natural, as if I had waited my entire life for this moment.

I take a deep breath, feeling the rush of oxygen into my lungs. "Trace on." My throat hardly moves, and there is no pain, all of my nerves have now turned to steel.

This is it, my last projection.

I bring to mind the most powerful sword in my armory. I forced myself to remain conscious through the whole process, drawing the image of Excalibur to the forefront of my mind.

Static.

Flashes of electricity sears through my mind. I can see it, the faint outline of a sword, it's histories, it's owners, the origin of it's concept, and the alien materials in its forging. Blood ruptured from my eyes, the Grail disappeared behind a reddish haze. But I feel it in my hands, my fingers wrapped around the hilt, it's weight throwing me off balance.

I tightened my grip, using the last of my energy to raise my arm. It is light, my body moves without effort. A sense of comfort washes over me.

I forget to breathe.

There is no pain.

My body is falling apart. But it doesn't matter. I am no longer needed, everything has already been set in motion. My body is machine programmed to carry out its task.

"Trace..." Words come out of my mouth, and I have no fear. I am dead before I utter the final words. "...On..."

And yet. I have never felt more alive.

It's spring.

I awoke beneath the shade of a blossoming cherry tree. The hill is covered in them, and walking up the familiar road is her.

"I'm home."


	76. Shirou XIV

Shirou XIV

I steadied my grip around Kanshou and Bakuya. Cleaning out the bits of bone and flesh that dripped from my face was not a luxury I could afford. Ahead stood more of the shadow monstrosities belonging to Caster's army.

But before I could make a move a screeching howl cut through the air. The figures before me exploded in a flash of raw prana. I wanted to know the cause of it, but did not have time to do so. Instead I moved onto the next target.

Caster's hunch figure stood in the distance, and I kicked my feet back to reach him in time. My movements were haggard and slow, I was exhausted after my fight with Kotomine.

When I arrived, Rider was gone, collapsed before the Grail with sword in hand. I turned back to Caster, but he appeared different, I sensed no malevolence from him.

Before the flash of light was the burst of prana. It was putrid and sickening, the air felt thick and heavy, as if a tsunami of sludge flooded through the cavern.

Then came the tremors and collapsing walls. Chunks of rock shattered around me as the explosion ripped throughout the cavern. It was a long way back to the entrance, there was no way I could make it. And yet my first reaction was to find Rin and Sakura.

They stood beside Rider's corpse. Rin had made her way over there to console the crying Sakura. She held her tightly as she mourned over the fading body of the broken Servant. Despite the distance I could see the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

But I didn't have any time at all. I ignored the crying of my body and rushed over there. Caster was no longer a blip on my mind, what he did didn't matter to me anymore. I had to get those two out of here.

I ran as fast as I could, the distant figures never growing any bigger as the blinding light does. The force from the dying Grail washed over us, and I forced my eyes to remain open as the light seared through my retinas.

Faster, faster, faster I tried to run, desperate to reach the disappearing images of Rin and Sakura. But in an instant the light overtook me, and I could no longer see anything.

I crashed through the kitchen wall.

Gone was the blinding light. A sharp throbbing pain entrenched itself in the temple of my skull. I pulled myself out of the human shape hole in the collapse door frame.

The pain ruptured throughout my body, but despite all of it I was very much alive. My head rolled around the room, trying to take stock of the situation. The quick transition unnerved me, and I tried my best to return to reality.

Shattered bamboo and torn up paper weaved themselves into the kitchen table. Tracks of blood and debris, along with chunks of rock had torn through the room. A half spire of stalagmite pierced through the stovetop.

But Rin and Sakura were safely nestled in the corner. I ignored the pain in my body and staggered over to them. Each foot dragged itself against the floor.

Rin looked up first with her tearful blue eyes. Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back against the wall, a small smile curling on the edges of her lips. "Caster," she muttered as she shook her head. Her tone was not of anger or fear, more a resigned sigh.

I knew what she meant. Only one thing could have sent us here and that would be magic beyond what we were capable of at the moment. We were all the same after all.

"The War is over," I said.

Rin nodded. She leaned against the wall with her back and hung her head. A single tear trickled down her cheeks. I collapsed down next to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She welcomed it, and the warmth washed over me.

I looked over at Sakura, watching her frail figure. She had pulled herself up and stared through the hole I made in the wall. It was night time, and she kept her eyes on the stars. In spite of her sadness I could see she was relieved, that even with the tragedy of everything she was happy. She can now be a peace.

"Senpai," she continued to stare outwards, speaking to no one in particular.

I too looked out the window, watching the stars. Memories of the last two weeks flooded in. The various lessons I learned when confronted with my own fears, and my own ideals. The painful realities I faced when I refused to listen to myself, when I forcibly deny my own feelings.

The paths that laid before me and the trail unblazed. Endless possibilities of my own choosing.

I continued to stare into the future ahead, wondering what laid in store for me. But as unknowing as the future may be, I understand one thing. I must continue to forge my own path, my own ideals. For whatever decisions I make, I now understand that the love in my heart is real.

And with that, the life of Emiya Shirou truly began.


	77. Epilogue

Epilogue

Emiya Shirou dreamt.

He dreamt of old age and a family, a happy life set out for him. A simple and peaceful existence that loved him unconditionally. And yet he still hungered for justice, for the safety of those he never met, nor ever would. He never neglected his family, but the priorities of the world were unimaginable to the mind of a child. Still, it was a beautiful ideal, and he loved and lived it all the same.

He dreamt of a blond haired girl, someone who could be called a king. Through her love he carried himself on to the bitter end with a smile on his face, knowing they would be reunited in death.

He dreamt of an ashened wasteland, the unfortunate consequence of pursuing his ideals. The logical conclusion of his wish. A desire for peace on Earth had lead to the destruction of all mankind. In his wake laid the charred corpse of everyone he held dear, left with only his ideals to carry him on in a world engulfed in fiery wrath.

He dreamt of a mob boss, a character with a rough exterior, but the same inner trappings as the others. He felt powerless to stop the disappearances and deaths in his city, and strove to utilize his position for good. In a greying world even criminals could be Heroes of Justice, and he never let the unsavory business hamper his ideals.

He dreamt of being consumed by anger and bitterness. Entrapped in a world a world where only the fit lived, and the weak cowered in the crevices between the raging Gods above. It was the "Age of Heroes," and he found no justice. He fought for it regardless, but somewhere along the lines, he broke. There was no justice, so he sought to become it.

He dreamt of a grieving lover, torn over the guilt of his own decisions. He held his ideals on a pedestal, an unrelenting and uncompromising concept. He fought for it, he killed for it, never yielding, he continued on his path betraying everyone he knew for it. First his lover, then his sister, and then his mentor; before he knew it his ideals were all he had left. A hollowed shell of a man, refusing to yield his ideals, even to himself.

He dreamt of being a Hero of Justice. The pursuit of a fake ideal passed down from his father. Every day he fought, doing everything he could to make the world a better place. But it was unrelenting, unceasing, for no matter what he did, nothing changed. He did nothing but kill, and in the end he was betrayed by his own ideals.

But he also dreamt of something else. He dreamt of another way, another path. He lived as he saw fit, unshackled by the expectations laid out for him. He made his mistakes and paid the price for them, but he never despaired because the choices he made were his. He had no destiny, no fate, no ordained route, but because of that, he was truly free. He truly lived.

Emiya Shirou wakes up.


End file.
